Idle Gossip
by Kezhke
Summary: Three years post-“Endgame,” Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres prepare for new posts, Chakotay and Harry Kim rediscover old friends, Admiral Janeway stares down ghosts from her past, and the Voyager rumor mill is as strong as ever. Slight fluff. P/T, J/C, K/f.
1. Chapter 1

**Idle Gossip**

Disclaimer: _Star Trek_ and its characters are the property of Viacom/Paramount/CBS, and I am just borrowing them for fun, not profit.

Synopsis: Set three years post-"Endgame." PG-13.

Prequel to my trilogy _Ad Infinitum_, but you don't have to read that to understand this.

Now that they've settled into life in the Alpha Quadrant, the Voyager crew are starting to make some major life changes. Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres prepare for new posts, Chakotay and Harry Kim rediscover old friends, and Admiral Janeway stares down several ghosts from her past. Meanwhile they all discover the rumor mill that existed on Voyager is just as strong as it used it to be in spite of the light-years between them. Slight fluff.

Pairings: P/T, J/C, K/f.

Language Note: Klingon expressions were translated using several different sources. I have not provided the English translations here, as the meaning should be more or less evident from context.

Notes: _Voyager Relaunch_, _Pathways_, and _Mosaic_ are not canon. (For that matter, I don't consider "The Fight" canon, but that's neither here nor there.)

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Command, Main Reception Hall, 2380**

The annual gathering of admirals and cadets was one function Admiral Kathryn Janeway had never had the misfortune of attending. This year, however, was different. Among the sea of nameless cadets was one young man preparing to start his final year at the Academy – a young man she had seen through adolescence. The monumental occasion of his final year at the Academy merited celebration.

The reception hall was bustling, but Janeway quickly found the one person she wanted to see. He was standing with a group of cadets – friends, she hoped – but he looked a little overwhelmed by the sea of people in attendance. She wasn't surprised. After all, he'd spent his formative years in relative solitude. She decided to rescue him.

Janeway laid a confident hand on his shoulder as she came up behind him. "Icheb?"

The young man turned around to look at her with a smile. "Admiral Janeway." He looked back at the group of cadets. "Will you excuse us please?" he said politely to them. He then followed Janeway through the crowd to a more secluded table in a corner.

"They looked like a nice group of people. Your friends?"

"Classmates."

Janeway pursed her lips slightly. She knew the transition to life at the Academy had been hard for him, but she had hoped he'd made a little more progress at socializing. After all, it had been two years.

"You're starting your final year. Are you thinking about what you'll do after graduation?"

"I'm feeling…eager to be in an environment with fewer young people," Icheb admitted. "My classmates are unusually preoccupied with recreation. They do not fully appreciate the dangers that lie ahead of them on their assignments."

"Oh, I'd say that's quite usual," she corrected gently. "I think they're aware that they'll be expected to behave differently once they graduate, and they want to enjoy life while they can. There's nothing wrong with a little fun." _Even Seven managed to figure that out. _ "The Academy isn't just about studying, Icheb. It's a time to prepare for life as an adult, and part of that is learning how to juggle work and play." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "Join a sports team this year. Or maybe the chess club."

"There is a kal-toh tournament next weekend."

"That's perfect," she encouraged. "You can ask Harry to help you prepare."

"I haven't spoken to Lieutenant Kim in several months," Icheb told her.

"Then you're in luck," she said with a smile. "He'll be here shortly."

Harry arrived about a half hour later, tugging on the hem of his dress uniform as he entered the reception hall. He was more than annoyed to in the uncomfortable get-up, particularly since his team was in the middle of a crucial test of a new Borg-inspired sensor array. He also knew he'd be one of very few officers at the reception who wasn't an Academy instructor. But he'd come at the admiral's personal request, a request he could not turn down, and he did genuinely want to support Icheb.

He found his surrogate family crowded around a table together. The Doctor and Reg Barclay looked as though they were competing for attention while Icheb, the admiral, and Admiral Paris listened attentively. As he approached them, Harry felt his bad mood lifting.

"Hello, everyone." He shook Paris's hand. "Admiral."

"How are you, Lieutenant?" his best friend's father inquired politely.

"Just fine, sir." Harry smiled at Janeway. "Nice to see you, Admiral."

Janeway set down the glass of chardonnay she was working on and laid her hands on his cheeks. "Harry, it's been too long."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "We've been working pretty hard on the new sensor design." Harry glanced at Icheb. "We could certainly use your expertise. After all, it does involve the use of Borg technology. Any room in your schedule this semester for an internship?"

"Harry," Janeway intervened, "I was actually trying to encourage Icheb to work less and play more this semester."

"And that's why no one will ever offer you a teaching position at the Academy," Admiral Paris teased her. Harry noticed that his eyes sparkled like Tom's when he smiled.

"Work less and play more is probably a philosophy I should embrace myself," Harry admitted. "Doc, anything new with you?"

"Unlike you and Icheb, I seem to have plenty of time for a social life," the Doctor gloated slightly. "In fact, I'm dating a dancer. Her name is Elina. We should have dinner together some time."

"I'd like that."

"How about you, Harry?" Reg Barclay chimed in.

"Harry and I are married to the job," Janeway interrupted. She linked her arm around Harry's elbow. "Don't be afraid to get a divorce," she warned in a low voice. "Life's too short to spend working on sensor arrays."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment but wondered if she was right. In the three years since they'd returned to the Alpha Quadrant, his career seemed to be flourishing; his social life, not so much. Janeway, though, dismissed her own advice as soon as it came out of her mouth. She _was_ married to the job, she knew, and she loved it. She had neither time nor inclination for anything else.

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"Where is the bathroom? _N__uqDaq 'oH puchpa''e.'_"

"_Nuke – dahk – oh – pooch – pah – ay_," B'Elanna Torres repeated slowly as the doors to her quarters swooshed open.

"It's down the corridor," the instructional voice continued.

"B'Elanna, what are you doing?" Tom Paris asked as he came toward the sofa on which she was seated. He cocked his head slightly and listened as the instructional voice continued in a series of harsh, guttural sounds that could only be one language. "Are you learning Klingon?"

"Computer, pause playback," his wife said with mild exasperation. "I thought you weren't going to be home for another hour."

Tom dropped onto the sofa beside her. "Are you trying to learn Klingon in secret?"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't remember very much of the language, and I thought maybe now that Miral is starting to learn how to read that we could teach her Klingon."

Tom smiled slightly. "I think that's a great idea. But I should learn, too. Computer, resume playback."

"Tom – " she protested.

"Thank you. _Qa tlho'_," the computer continued.

"'Where's the restroom?' and 'Thank you'?" Tom asked with evident skepticism as the voice continued. "What is this – Klingon language instruction for those who never plan to talk to actual Klingons?"

B'Elanna glared at him. "Make a joke," she said angrily. "But just think about how my mother felt trying to learn to talk to humans. She'd never had to say, 'Hello. How are you? Pleased to meet you.' She probably felt ridiculous."

"That's what I'm saying. If I'm going to learn Klingon, I want to learn useful expressions. You know, like, 'If you look at me that way again, my wife will throw you into a plasma fire.'"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes, but there was a slight smile on her lips. "Computer, cancel playback." She turned to him. "Your daughter got her first haircut today."

"And?" he asked with anticipation.

"I think it's cute."

"Is she still in her room?" B'Elanna nodded, and Tom promptly rose from the sofa. He crossed their small quarters to the entrance to their daughter's room and poked his head in.

Miral Paris was a good child, quite content to amuse herself. When B'Elanna was pregnant, Tom wholly expected he'd spend the first ten years of Miral's life chasing her up and down the corridors of Voyager, trying desperately to keep up with her Klingon exuberance and willfulness. Instead, he'd spent the past two years falling in love with a small thing that he often found sitting on the floor of her bedroom, playing and talking to herself. If this was the "terrible twos," he thought, then maybe he could handle fatherhood a lot better than he'd anticipated.

He didn't mean to disturb her, but Miral caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. "Daddy!" she shrieked, running toward him. He scooped her up and threw her in the air. She shrieked again. Then he gave her a big hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"You got a haircut today, munchkin." Miral nodded.

By the time Tom carried her back to the common area, B'Elanna was busy at work with a stack of padds. She didn't even look up as she called, "I'm working on the plasma flow regulators for that new runabout. Did you run the simulation today?"

"Yes, and you'll have my report first thing in the morning."

"Just tell me now."

Tom rolled his eyes slightly. While their cooperative posts were convenient – and usually fun – they were not without drawbacks. Having to answer to B'Elanna's exacting work ethic at all hours of the day and night was definitely a drawback. "I really don't want to think about work right now," he whined. He sat down on the couch next to her, and Miral slid off his lap and ran away.

B'Elanna eyed him sharply. "Pilot Paris? It's a new series runabout! You don't want to talk about all the amazing feats you managed to pull off during the test flight? Just tell me so I don't have to wait for your report."

"Yes, ma'am," he conceded with a little smirk. The eyes grew sharper. "The thrusters are fine, but the nacelles take too long to engage. Most people probably wouldn't notice, but I'd say there's a definite half-second delay. Could be a problem with the power relays."

B'Elanna scoffed at his attempt to diagnose the problem. "I thought the nacelles needed a little more work," she admitted finally, "but maybe the pilot shouldn't try to blow them out every time he goes to warp?"

If she was in a bad mood and heading for an argument, it wasn't going to work. Tom was tired, all right, but he was feeling happy. He just smiled and said, "If you got a less daring pilot, you'd never know about these little glitches." Before she could throw a padd at him, he leaned in close and dropped his voice. "What's with her hair?"

"She needed a cut."

"I know, but…" He wasn't sure how to approach this. "I just thought we agreed to keep it long."

B'Elanna made a face at him. "No, you said you liked it long. She's old enough to pick her own hairstyle."

"But it's so short!"

"I think she looks cute." B'Elanna realized something. "Actually, it's a little like mine."

Miral threw herself at Tom's feet. He picked her up and placed her on his lap. She was staring off somewhere, absently holding a corner of her favorite blanket to her mouth, and he took the opportunity to study her new hairdo. Her light brown hair had been in soft waves to her shoulders when he had gone on duty this morning, and now it was sleek and straight, falling just to her chin, where it curled under itself slightly. It was exactly like B'Elanna's. Tom wondered if that was why Miral had chosen the style. She turned her head toward him, and he looked at her creamy skin and hazel eyes – so different than B'Elanna's deep chocolate or his own icy blue eyes – and the very gentle cranial ridges that announced her Klingon heritage.

"What you look at?" she demanded with a pout.

He wanted to say, _You're beautiful, munchkin, you know that? There's only one person in the entire world as beautiful as you._ But he and B'Elanna had often talked about how they never really heard many emotional outbursts from their parents toward them, and how they were perhaps too eager to remind Miral that she was perfect and special. Tom didn't see a problem, in that it was the truth, but B'Elanna was worried their daughter was going to get a big head and have trouble in the "real world." So Tom lovingly stroked his daughter's new short hair and kissed her temple and answered her simply, "Just lookin' at you."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco**

As Harry Kim made his way through the outdoor market, he mentally composed his next letter to Tom and B'Elanna. He knew he owed them one, and he had plenty to say. In fact, he'd mentally composed eight or nine paragraphs' worth of information about his post and his new apartment. What he hadn't done yet was get around to actually writing and sending the letter.

He paused in front of a flower vendor and looked at the cuttings of asters. It was definitely fall, and the late bloomers would be a nice present to bring to dinner that night with his mother.

"Do you have any yellow ones?" he asked the vendor.

A woman came up on his left and leaned close to the blooms. "I'd like a small bouquet of sunflowers, please," she instructed the vendor.

Something about the voice caught Harry's attention, and he turned to look at her. "Libby?"

"Harry?" she sounded genuinely surprised, and her eyes widened for a moment. Then she grinned. "Oh my god, Harry Kim, how are you?"

Her arms were around him before he realized what was happening. As they pulled back slightly, the vendor thrust a bunch of yellow asters at him, and Harry accepted them with a nod of thanks. He noticed something change in Libby's eyes for a split-second, and then the smile returned full-force.

"I can't believe how long it's been," she said.

"I know," Harry echoed, smiling back. "It's been…what? Over a year?" He tried to remember the last time they'd spoken or seen each other. There had been a few meetings when Voyager first returned to the Alpha Quadrant, but as time passed, their communication had grown more infrequent.

Libby fingered the two solid pips on his uniform collar. "You must have been working hard all that time."

Harry felt himself blushing slightly. "Something like that," he answered vaguely.

Then she nodded in the direction of the flowers. "Unless, of course, there's something else keeping you occupied…."

Harry looked down at the stems in his hand dumbly. "Oh, these?" It finally registered: the change in her eyes was disappointment. "These are for my mom. It's her birthday tomorrow, so we're having dinner tonight."

"Oh, that's right," Libby said. "Her birthday is in September. I knew that." She smiled again, and this time Harry could see it was sincere. "So, work?"

"Work. Planetary operations. You?"

"Museum of Aquatic Sciences. Like the job?"

"Love it. You?"

"Love it."

The flower vendor handed Libby a bouquet of sunflowers, and they found themselves falling into an awkward silence, each staring at the flowers in hand.

"Well, listen," Harry said finally in a slightly phony voice, "we should get together some time and use more than three words to describe our lives."

"That sounds great," Libby said with equal phoniness. "I'd better get going." She took a few steps away from him, but she turned to look over her shoulder at him. "Harry Kim," she muttered to herself as she moved away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

Admiral Kathryn Janeway, cup of coffee in hand, strode purposefully across her office. She sat down at the large desk, activated her computer, and felt her mouth being pulled into an automatic frown. Twenty-seven new messages. She sighed and scanned the list to see if any had been sent priority one. None.

Several messages were from her sister, and she suspected they were of no urgency; one was from Tuvok, which she'd save for later, when she wasn't feeling so grumpy. Status reports from four divisions. Maybe after her second cup of coffee. Promotions review board. She felt the frown begin to dissipate. If one thing could perk her up, it was helping officers who had served under her get ahead.

Janeway went through the message carefully. Sometimes it annoyed her that, in spite of the meticulous personnel files commanding officers were required to keep, Starfleet Headquarters still felt that additional information was required of them, but she also appreciated the opportunity to weigh in on decisions affecting the younger men and women who had served under her. She sometimes wondered if other captains had grown as attached to their crews as she had to the Voyager crew, who'd served under her command for seven long years while lost in the Delta Quadrant. After that harrowing experience, she figured the least she could do was ensure that those who remained in Starfleet got the assignments they wanted and deserved.

She scrolled through the message carefully. Jenny Delaney was up for a position at Deep Space Two. Janeway knew Magnus Rollins had been assigned there after Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, and she smirked, guessing that Delaney's request was to ensure a three-year relationship spurred by their arrival back in the Alpha Quadrant resulted in a marriage. She'd recommend Delaney all right; why stand in the way of love? But the letter could wait until morning.

Two former Voyager crew members were being recommended for the Copernicus, it seemed, out of mere coincidence. Baytart was up for chief conn officer and Nozawa for transporter chief. Nozawa was a no-brainer; he'd be fine in the transporter room. Baytart, though, as senior helmsman would take a good night's sleep to decide. He'd had a reputation as a kind of buffoon on Voyager, and from what she'd heard over the years, he hadn't changed much.

She scrolled down to the bottom of the message.

"Accepting recommendations for the position of chief engineer for the Enterprise," she read aloud. She smiled. There was only one name, and it was a long shot. A certain engineer on a starbase far away probably wasn't even interested in the change of assignment. Still, it was just a recommendation, and, she rationalized, she had a duty to the Fleet to ensure the best and brightest were being utilized to their fullest potential.

She began to draft her letter.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Museum of Aquatic Sciences**

"Hi," Harry Kim said awkwardly. "I hope I'm not bothering you, but I – I wanted to take you up on that offer to get together some time, but I realized I didn't know where you lived. You mentioned you were working here, so…"

"So you showed up to ask me out?" Libby finished with clear disbelief. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the spacious lobby of the museum with some confusion.

"Something like that." Harry suddenly remembered the flowers in his hands and thrust them toward her. "These are for you."

Libby scratched her head with one hand as she accepted the flowers with the other. "You didn't mean you wanted to go on a date _now_, did you?" She looked around again. "I mean, I have to work until 1700."

"Right, right, of course," Harry said. Part of him floated out of his body and watched the two of them stumble over a basic conversation and wondered why they were having such a hard time. "Actually, I just wanted to find you. To ask about dinner. Later. Or some other night." He paused and then allowed himself to laugh off his apprehension. "I'm sorry, Libby. I can't believe how nervous I am right now."

"Me too," she admitted with a slight crinkling of her nose. "This is just weird. When you first came back and we were going out with all of our friends in a reunion, it was one thing, but a date…for me this is like…having dinner with a ghost."

"It doesn't have to be a date then," Harry quickly interjected. "It can be a dinner between old friends. Just to catch up. Nothing romantic at all about it." He mentally smacked his forehead. _Stupid_, he accused himself. _Just quit while you're ahead._

"I didn't say I didn't want it to be a date," Libby corrected with a little more assertiveness than Harry was managing. "Just that it's going to take me a little while to adjust to the idea of seeing you again…romantically."

Harry drew some strength from her. "Are you saying you feel…romantic?" he asked, taking a step closer to her.

"Maybe," she acknowledged with a smile. "But this isn't really a conversation I want to be having in the lobby of my workplace."

He nodded. "Right. So, dinner tonight?"

"Actually, I already have dinner plans for tonight," Libby said with a tinge of regret. "How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's great," Harry lied as his stomach began tying itself into knots of disappointment. "Just great. Should I meet you here?"

"That would be nice. I get off at 1700. There's a café around the corner that serves great hasperat. You still like it, don't you?"

"Hasperat? That sounds great." Harry started walking backwards toward the entrance. He needed to get out of the museum while he was still able to walk. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Libby nodded. "Tomorrow."

He began heading for the exit in earnest when he heard her call his name. As he turned around, he heard Libby mutter to herself, "Oh, hell," and then she was upon him, kissing him in the middle of the lobby. "Be back tonight," she breathed into his ear. "And don't be late." She was gone before Harry fully realized what had happened.

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"She's finally asleep," B'Elanna Torres reported as she entered her bedroom. She lifted her arms above her head in a big stretch before climbing onto the bed next to her husband.

Tom Paris threw the padd he was reading onto the floor. "She's going to be cranky tomorrow. She should have been asleep an hour ago."

B'Elanna slid across the bed, melting easily against his body. "We'll deal with that tomorrow," she determined, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"You're awfully affectionate tonight," he observed as he drew his arms around her.

She propped her head up on her elbow. "We've been trying for, what, six months now?"

"That sounds about right."

"Not that I don't enjoying trying," she said, kissing his cheek several times slowly, "but maybe we should think about whether or not we really want to have another child."

Tom grabbed her arm, preventing her from kissing him again. "What do you mean?" he asked with alarm.

B'Elanna shrugged slightly. "Can't we just be happy as the three of us? Isn't Miral enough?"

"Of course," he assured her. "I just think that it would be good for her to have a brother or sister. I know you don't like to think about it, but –"

"But the reason my life was so difficult was because I was an only child," she finished with a roll of her eyes as she pulled away from him. "You have no idea what it's like to be an only child. You just don't know that for sure."

"I guess not," he said, slightly miffed. "But, B'Elanna, you have no idea what it'll be like with two kids. They'll fight all the time, and they'll tell each other they hate each other, and they'll steal each other's stuff –"

"This is supposed to convince me?"

"And they'll tell each other secrets," Tom continued, "things they would never tell us, and they'll cover for each other when one of them is in trouble with us. They'll be each other's best friend. It'll be great. I promise you." He raised his eyebrows at her. "One of them for each of us?"

"I just don't want us to try every month and get disappointed every month. I don't want to be those interspecies couples who talk about how hard it is to start a family all the time."

"Didn't happen the first time around," he reminded her.

B'Elanna frowned. It was true. Miral had been a bit of a surprise – a welcome, happy surprise – but a surprise nonetheless only a few months into their marriage. Baby number two had only been in the works for a few months. It wasn't taking any longer; it was just that with Miral she hadn't counted the months.

"Can we just say that if it happens, it happens, and if it doesn't, it doesn't, okay?"

"Okay," Tom agreed. He rolled closer to her. "Can we also say that practice makes perfect?"

B'Elanna knew she was smiling in spite of herself. It was unbelievable how easily he could do that her. She lay back against the pillows as he moved in to kiss her.

"Take my uniform off," she whispered. He complied, and they continued kissing for a moment until she felt herself growing annoyed at him.

"What are you doing?" she yelled through gritted teeth. "Take _your_ uniform off!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Starbase 174, New Technologies Design Lab**

"Commander Torres, please report to my office."

B'Elanna could feel the eyes of her engineering team on her as she carefully set down the micro-resonator she was holding. She tapped her com badge. "I'm on my way."

"Do you think he's mad about the Andorian freighter?" one of her crew, Ensign Harding, whispered nervously.

"Of course not," B'Elanna responded, trying to mask her annoyance.

"Maybe if you explain to him that we – "

"Ensign," she interrupted, "finish your work and keep the speculation to a minimum, okay?" Harding nodded, and B'Elanna walked out of the lab toward the turbolift. She paused by the com panel in the corridor. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Paris," she instructed quietly.

"Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters."

"Thank you." B'Elanna stepped inside the turbolift. As soon as the door closed, she tapped her com badge again. "Torres to Paris."

"Go ahead."

"I've been summoned again."

"Oh no," came the reply. "The Andorian freighter?"

"I don't know. He didn't say."

"Just keep your cool and remember your last evaluation," Tom advised.

B'Elanna leaned her head against the wall of the turbolift. "Let's see. What was it he said? 'Extremely capable but with managerial weaknesses'?"

"He did not say you were a weak manager," Tom corrected. "He said –"

"Gotta go. Torres out," she interrupted as the turbolift door opened onto the station's main operations center. B'Elanna nodded to two officers working at a nearby console as she passed them on her way to the commander's office.

When he called her in, B'Elanna took three small steps across the threshold. It wasn't that Commander Beoro was particularly frightening or that they didn't get along. It was just the fourth time she'd been called to his office in two weeks, and she knew him well enough to know that if he had good news, he would have come to the design lab to tell her in person.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?"

"Sit down, Torres. I just received an interesting message from Captain Klees of the Enterprise. It seems his chief engineer just got promoted to first officer of the Kansas City, and Klees' engineering team is going to be a little light until a new department head can be named."

Beoro paused then, and B'Elanna assumed he was waiting for a response. "Well, I suppose we could spare five or six people from the maintenance and repair crews," she offered.

"No one from the design team?"

"With all due respect, Commander, designing and testing new systems is completely different than managing the day-to-day problems of a ship."

"I see." Beoro steepled his fingers. "Torres, Captain Klees doesn't want anyone from your maintenance team."

"Well, he's not getting anyone from the design team," B'Elanna insisted more forcefully. "I don't care if he is the captain of the flagship."

"He doesn't want your design team," Beoro explained. "He wants you. Well, he's considering you."

"Me? For what?"

"Chief engineer."

B'Elanna burst into laughter but caught herself when she saw how serious the commander was.

"He's going to want to talk to you," he continued. "And he needs a formal recommendation from me. Anything in particular you'd like me to say?"

"Uh…"

* * *

**Dokkara 6**

Chakotay shielded his eyes with his hands as he surveyed the excavation site. Four of his students were mapping out the search grid while the rest waited to be assigned a partner and a section to dig through. They were gathered at the perimeter of the site, watching him, waiting for instruction.

"All right," he reminded them as he approached, "remember that these are sacred ruins, and without meaning to, you could easily violate them." He held up a small metal tool. "Use this to dig through the dirt." He held up his hand next. "And use this to claim any artifacts you find. Nothing else, got it?"

"Professor," one of the young men said with a slight whine, "wouldn't this go much faster if we just scanned the area? We could still use our hands to retrieve any artifacts."

"Scanning would be a violation of the Dokkaran religious doctrine," Chakotay reminded him with some annoyance. "We covered this in the lecture last week."

"Why are hands and shovels any better?" a female student standing next to him challenged. "We're still violating the site."

"Because the Dokkarans believe technology interferes with transcendence. But if the hand comes upon something, it's because it's meant to be. If we're meant to find any artifacts, it has to be with hands." He sighed and threw his hands on hips. "Look, everybody, if you don't like the rules, you can wait in the shuttle until the rest of us are finished. Understood?" The students nodded slightly but didn't look overly enthusiastic.

Chakotay himself wasn't enthusiastic about this particular project. He was reasonably certain they'd go home empty-handed, which wasn't as much a problem to him as was the fact that the excavation offered little chance of actually increasing anything they knew about ancient Dokkaran culture. In truth, he knew, his students were right. They could have flown over the moon, run a few sensor scans, and been on their way home in less than an hour. As it was, they'd spent two hours laying out the search grid and were likely to spend another three or four searching their individual sections. He probably wouldn't get home until quite late.

_Well, nothing more interesting happening at home anyway._

One of the students responsible for the search grid, a sophomore with spiky brown hair whom he thought was named Shelnya, came toward them and nodded at him.

"All right, people, here are your assignments," he began. He rattled off a list of names and squares on the grid and noticed that Shelnya was still loitering. "Who's your partner?"

"I don't have one. There are seventeen of us," she reminded him.

"In that case, you can come with me to search that hill over there." He pointed off in the distance. "See that rock formation? That should indicate burial grounds."

As they headed away from the excavation site, Sheldon leaned closer to him and said quietly, "Once we get over the hill, are you going to take out that Starfleet tricorder you're carrying?"

"How did you know I have a tricorder?" he asked, taken aback.

She grinned. "I have my methods." There was a slight pause before she continued, "Professor, do you really believe in all this 'no technology' mumbo-jumbo?"

Chakotay couldn't help smiling slightly at her directness. One thing he'd learned over the past three years was that university students might have been legal adults, but they seldom acted like it. "I think it's important to respect the traditions and beliefs of whatever culture we're learning about. If we didn't, we wouldn't really be studying _them_. We'd just be studying what we wanted them to be, based on our own beliefs."

"That makes sense," she said. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

Her sincerity made him decide to throw her a bone. "But honestly? I think this time the rules might be going a little too far."

"So why have us jump through all these hoops?"

Chakotay winked. "I have a reputation to protect."

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"Miral, come here for a second," Tom called. His daughter tottered into her bedroom. "Hey," he said, stooping to her level, "look at all these toys on the floor. How did they get there?"

Miral shrugged and put on an innocent face.

Tom knew he was supposed to be stern, but he also knew he was a sucker. He smiled and took her hand in his. "Mommy's going to be home soon, and she's not going to be happy to see this mess."

"What should we do?" Miral whispered.

"You know how tired you are when you get home from school?" Miral nodded. "That's how Mommy feels when she comes home from being on duty."

"She's too tired to pick up toys!"

"That's right, munchkin. So _we_ should pick them up and surprise her. Then she'll be really happy." To demonstrate his point, Tom picked up a building block emblazoned with a letter of the Klingon alphabet and handed it to Miral. She ran across the room and dropped it into her toy box.

B'Elanna came home a few hours later to immaculate quarters. She found Tom and Miral reading a book together on Miral's bed. "It looks pretty good in here," she called from the doorway.

"Mommy!" Miral slid off the bed and ran to her mother, who scooped her up and kissed her heartily on the cheek before resting her on her hip.

"Hey," Tom said, greeting her with a kiss of his own. "How was the meeting with Beoro?"

"Well, I have some interesting news," B'Elanna reported mysteriously. "I'll tell you all about it over dinner. I'm starving. Are you two hungry?"

"I'm hungry!" Miral said.

They went into the common area, and Tom settled Miral into a chair at the table while B'Elanna replicated dinner. As she set the dishes on the table, Tom waited patiently for a play-by-play of the meeting.

"So?" he prompted finally.

"So he asked me if I'd consider a career move." She paused for effect, taking a long sip of water. "To chief engineer." Another pause. "Of the Enterprise."

Tom choked a little on his tomato soup. "The Enterprise? Are you kidding me?"

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed involuntarily. "You don't have to be so surprised."

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," he assured her quickly. "It's just that…"

"That I used to be on the Federation's most wanted list?"

"Something like that," he answered carefully.

"Well, I was as stunned as you are," she admitted. "But Beoro said that when the charges against the Maquis were and when we were reinstated, Starfleet was being sincere. We shouldn't expect any different treatment."

"Wow."

"Apparently, there are three other candidates, one of whom is currently the second in command there, so I'm sure I won't get it," she added hastily. "It's probably not even worth talking about."

"Still, B'Elanna, even being considered is big…" Tom was watching her face carefully, and he could sense she didn't want any premature congratulations. But he was proud of her, and he needed her to know it.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

"Jenny Delaney got a position on Deep Space Two," Janeway said over a sip of coffee. "She just sent me a message last week. Magnus Rollins is there, you know."

"Are they still together?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. "I never would have guessed they'd last that long."

"I expect we'll be hearing news about a wedding any day now," Janeway predicted. "Oh, and Pablo Baytart got a promotion."

Harry nodded. "Ayala told me."

"How is he doing?"

Harry shook his head slightly. "He's still having trouble finding a position, but his ex-wife is letting him see his sons a lot more, so that makes him happy."

"I wish he'd stayed in Starfleet," Janeway said truthfully. "I could have helped him resettle better if he had. My name doesn't carry much weight in the civilian world." She held up a hand before Harry could protest. "I know, I know. Moving on was the right decision for him – for a lot of them – but it's my fault they were all lost in space for seven years, and I wish there was more I could do now to help them out."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate just hearing that," Harry said quietly. He took another drink of coffee.

"Have you heard from Tom and B'Elanna lately?"

Harry shook his head. "Sure, we talk every day, but there's nothing new in their lives. Miral's learning to read Klingon."

"That's great," Janeway said with a genuine smile. "I guess they're hard at work on Starbase 174 as always?" She looked at him carefully, wondering if he knew anything about B'Elanna's possible promotion and her reaction to it.

"I guess so."

She surmised that B'Elanna hadn't said to him anything yet. _She probably decided not to say anything in case she doesn't get it. But how did she convince Tom to keep quiet?_ "Harry," she said, changing subjects, "do you want to be my date to a reception at the Bolian embassy on Friday?"

"Your date?"

"Ordinarily I'd ask the Doctor, but he's passionately involved with some dancer, and Reg is on assignment off-world. We're both married to Starfleet, right? Who better to be my date?"

Her voice was so light and casual that Harry felt terrible declining. He also felt terrible to be leaving her alone in the "married to the job" department. "I'm sorry, Admiral, I actually have plans all weekend."

"Oh?"

Harry felt himself blushing slightly. "Libby, my girlfr – uh, the woman I've been seeing – we're going to spend the weekend in Fiji."

"When did you start seeing someone?" Janeway asked with genuine curiosity.

"It's been a little over a month," Harry calculated. He set his mug of coffee down on the table. "Libby is actually the girl I was dating when Voyager got lost. We talked a little after we returned, but then we ran into each other on the street about a month ago, and…"

"And you've been seeing each other ever since," she finished. "You've reconnected with a long-lost love, hmm?"

Harry felt a little embarrassed. "You could say that." She patted his knee affectionately, and Harry met her eyes. "Can I tell you a secret, Admiral?" She nodded. "It's getting serious."

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

If they were both off-duty at 2000, which they usually were, Tom and B'Elanna had a ritual of putting Miral to bed together. B'Elanna helped her change into her pajamas and then brushed her hair. Tom tucked her in and awaited her nightly request for a story.

"Which one tonight, munchkin?"

"Captain Proton."

B'Elanna shook her head as Tom began to narrate scenes from his old Captain Proton holonovel – appropriately edited for a child. She'd heard the corny stories a hundred times. She'd even been coerced into participating a few times. It wasn't her thing. But Miral loved Captain Proton, and B'Elanna couldn't resist indulging her, especially when Miral was taking after Tom.

She realized she hadn't been paying attention. They were waiting for her to do the sound effects.

"Boom!" B'Elanna shouted. "Boom, boom!" She ticked Miral, who squealed.

"And then Captain Proton crashed into Chaotica's laboratory."

"Crash!"

"And he said…"

"'Captain Proton, spaceman extra-lair, 'courge of inner-gatatic evil, at your service,'" Miral recited.

"And he untied Buster Kincaid from the death ray and used his atomizer to stop Chaotica. He saved Earth from destruction."

Miral cheered.

"Captain Proton arrived back on Earth, and he was thanked by the President."

"Thank you," B'Elanna said in a mock deep voice, shaking Tom's hand.

"The end," Miral said, her eyes starting to close.

"The end," B'Elanna echoed.

"Good night, munchkin." Tom kissed his daughter's forehead ridges. B'Elanna followed suit, and they quietly left her room.

In their own bedroom the subject of the possible promotion came up again as they got ready for bed.

"I mean, what is it with Starfleet?" Tom griped. "We were lost for _seven years_. They can't give us a little time to adjust before they start flinging us all over the galaxy again?"

"Tom, we've been back for three years, and we've had the same assignment together that entire time. We got pretty lucky."

Tom climbed under the covers. "We also had a newborn and Captain Janeway pulling for us."

B'Elanna climbed in next to him. "Well, it's not worth worrying about, anyway. I can't imagine they'll give it to me. I'm lucky I was allowed to stay in Starfleet in the first place."

"You got to stay because you had proven yourself, and you're up for this position because you are one of the top engineers in the Fleet," he said seriously.

B'Elanna snorted slightly. "And someone who didn't finish the Academy and could have easily been convicted of treason."

"B'Elanna, since we've been back, you've become the most by-the-book officer I've ever seen! How many times have you thrown my reports back at me because I didn't follow protocol?"

B'Elanna thought for a minute before answering, "Four times."

"The real question is whether or not you want the Enterprise assignment."

"Of course I want it," she answered before she realized what she had said. "I love working here, with you, improving ship systems – it makes me feel really important. But running my own ship, not just planning it out on a padd and turning it over to someone else…." Her voice trailed off. "The Enterprise doesn't need a good engineer, Tom. It's the flagship. It needs a figurehead."

"Don't you think it's up to Starfleet to decide what the Enterprise needs?"

B'Elanna lay back against her pillow with a soft sigh. She could tell Tom was excited for her, and she suspected he wanted to have a real discussion about what a change of assignment would mean for their family. It was a discussion she knew they'd have to have one day – they couldn't keep the same posts forever – but she wasn't quite ready to have that conversation yet.

Tom heard the sigh and knew not to push. He knew she wanted the post. He wasn't exaggerating when he'd said she had become a model officer in the past two years. Something about maternity or matrimony, maybe, or the relative safety of not flying into hostile aliens every day – whatever it was, B'Elanna had changed a lot in the ten years he'd known her. And as for her "managerial weaknesses," well, he hadn't been present at her review, but Tom knew B'Elanna's leadership ability and Beoro's command style. He suspected the commander had suggested that she delegate more, and as the guy waiting for her at the dinner table, Tom had to agree. But that wouldn't preclude her from getting a promotion.

B'Elanna liked their joint posting – so did he – but he sometimes wondered if she missed making repairs on the fly, rather than plotting them out in technical manuals. She liked being in charge, and for B'Elanna that didn't mean command; it meant engineering, where she thought she had real power over the ship.

Tom started rubbing her shoulders, and she sat up to accommodate him. "We should figure out our plan. We're bound to have different assignments some day. What if you get the Enterprise and I'm still here?"

"You could always request a transfer," B'Elanna suggested, letting her head roll to the side as her muscles relaxed around his hands. "Or resign your commission."

Tom stopped rubbing. "And become Mr. B'Elanna Torres?"

She turned toward him sharply. "This isn't about your ego, Tom. I outrank you now, and I'm more likely to have an assignment on a family ship."

"I _am_ making a career for myself now, too, you know," he replied with a little more hostility than he had intended. "I have a job here that I love, that lets me spend time with my daughter. And it's meaningful work."

"I know that," she retorted. "I work with you."

"Then you know that I'm just as important on this base as you are." Tom wasn't sure why he was getting angry. Most likely, it wasn't because of B'Elanna's attitude – she was just being a pragmatist – but because he was starting to feel a little jealous of her success.

"I never said you weren't important," she told him pointedly.

"You said _you_ were more likely to have an important assignment. Meaning I am not important."

"Is this about your past?" she snapped. "Are you still self-conscious about all of that? Give me a break!"

"You're the one who's not even willing to consider that you'd get the position because you quit the Academy – which was over ten years ago!"

"All right, fine," B'Elanna snapped. "I am thinking about it. I'm excited at the possibility. Is that what you want me to admit?"

"I knew it."

"So now what?"

Tom sighed. "So now we have to figure out what this means for us."

"I'm not saying I want to move to Qo'noS and leave you behind, Tom," she said with fatigue. "We can all stay together on the Enterprise."

"So you've gone from assuming you won't get it to assuming you will?"

"Okay, that's it," B'Elanna declared, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Tom caught himself before he said something he'd regret. "I just want you to be honest with me." He put a hand on the empty space next to him, still warm from her. "Come back."

B'Elanna put her hands on her hips and stared at him angrily.

"B'Elanna…" Tom raised his eyebrows and hoped she'd be seduced.

She rolled her eyes but climbed back into bed beside him. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to flaunt my rank."

"You worked hard for that rank," he said gently.

"I'm not trying to insult you, Tom. All I meant was that because I outrank you, I'll probably have a command position sooner than you. I like it here, too, but we both know we won't be posted here forever. This might be a really good offer. The next time a new position comes along, it might not be someplace where you, Miral, and I can be together."

"You're probably right," he agreed.

"I would never take the position if you didn't want me to. You know that, right?"

"Look, B'Elanna, you know how proud I am of you and everything you've accomplished." Tom cupped the side of her face, and she nodded. As if to prove his point, he kissed her several times gently while he reiterated. "I am. I am so proud of you. But I really like my job here."

"I know you do," she admitted. "I wouldn't ask you to give it up."

"But you know you and Miral are my world."

"I do."

"If I never flew a ship again, I'd be okay if I had you two."

"I know," B'Elanna said, kissing him very lightly on the lips.

"But I _really_ _love_ flying."

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Lieutenant Harry Kim**

"You've got that glow," B'Elanna said accusatorily. "I can see it through subspace."

Harry smiled, blushing slightly, and knowing that she was right. "I admit it. I can't stop thinking about her. I keep waiting for something bad to happen – for her to plot a terrorist attack or turn into a cow or something."

"Don't be so pessimistic," his friend encouraged. "You deserve a little happiness."

"Thanks, B'Elanna," he said sincerely. There was a knock on his door. "Hey, I've got to go. She's here."

"What's the plan for tonight?"

"None of your business," Harry answered cheekily. He deactivated the computer and ran to the front door.

Before he could open it all the way, Libby was pressed against him, kissing him, her hands moving wildly through his hair and across his back. Harry decided to savor the moment and not ask questions.

After a minute, she calmed. "I missed you," she said by way of explanation. She took his hand, and they retreated to the living room. "I couldn't concentrate on anything at work today. All I could think about was getting here and doing that to you."

Harry grinned and caressed her lips with his thumb. He moved in to kiss her again and enjoyed the way her lips tasted.

"It sounded like you were talking to someone before I got here," she said, looking around. "You don't have another woman hiding somewhere around here, do you?"

"Nah, just one on subspace," he teased. He made himself comfortable on the couch. "B'Elanna commed because Miral wanted to recite the Klingon alphabet to me. You remember Miral? You met her at Admiral Janeway's house at the first Voyager reunion."

"The cute little baby no one could pry out of your arms? How could I forget?" Libby fell onto the sofa beside him. "So B'Elanna is your other woman?" she asked with confusion.

"No," he chided, "Miral is."

Libby considered this for a moment and then shrugged. "Pretty stiff competition, but I think I can beat her."

Harry grinned. "How exactly are you going to do that?"

"I have the advantage of proximity," she replied, leaning toward him. Another passionate kiss followed. "I hope you didn't plan for us to leave the house tonight."

"Nope."

"Good."

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

Tom lay beside B'Elanna, silent for a moment as he stroked her hair. "Are you sleepy?" he whispered, rubbing her hands and arms, anywhere he could reach, gently, slowly. For all that he knew everyone considered B'Elanna too tough for the "mushy stuff," Tom thought of her more like a cat: she liked affection – even craved it sometimes – but on her own terms. And if that meant late at night, in the privacy of their bedroom, it was just fine with him.

"Not yet."

"Can we talk about the Enterprise?"

B'Elanna rolled onto her stomach and propped her head up on one elbow. "What do you want to say?"

"You first."

"Okay, well, if I get the assignment, I really want to take it. And I want Miral with me." She paused. "I want you with me, too, but I don't want you to give up your career, especially after you worked so hard to stay in Starfleet." Another pause. "What do you want?"

"Okay," he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, "I want you to accept the post, because I'm proud of you and I know you'd be good at it and I know you want it. But I don't want to be on separate assignments. So that would mean going with you. But I also don't want to resign my commission."

B'Elanna nodded. "What do you think about requesting a transfer?"

"It sounds boring," he admitted. "Flying a starship through uncharted space is every pilot's dream, but I've had a lot of years to do that. How could anything be exciting after Voyager? What I do here, testing new ships, it's exciting and fresh." He sighed. "Won't you miss design work? Don't you think it's an honor to be the head of the design lab here?"

"It's not as though there are very many people who could be in charge of it," she reminded him. "Our mission is to integrate Delta Quadrant technology into Starfleet systems. Who else could they make the head of that project? Harry? Seven before she died?"

Tom watched his wife's face for a moment and began to realize that she did not think the same way about their jobs at the starbase. For him it was a dream come true. B'Elanna designed and built the ships, and he got to test them. Then home every night in time for dinner and cartoons with his daughter. It was a lot more stable than Voyager, it was a lot more fun than Harry's job, and it came with a commanding officer who gave them a wide berth.

"I miss having an engine that I know inside and out, that I'm responsible for," B'Elanna continued.

Tom nodded, having just understood that very point. His domestic bliss had left her feeling unfulfilled, it seemed. But, of course, it wasn't about either them of getting their own way at the expense of the other. Those days were gone. "It's not just about what we want anymore, is it?"

"No," she said with equal thoughtfulness. "I suppose staying here is better for her. We're both here, and neither of us is doing anything too dangerous."

"As long as you do your job correctly," Tom teased.

"Be serious."

"Seriously? I can't imagine what we were thinking when we decided to have a baby on Voyager."

"Voyager was our home," B'Elanna reminded him with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "We didn't know we were going to get back the day she was born. If we'd been trapped in the Delta Quadrant forever, what would we have done? Never had a family?"

Tom shook his head. "But we were constantly under attack, and you were holding the ship together with fritzy gel packs and some bubble gum."

"We did pretty well with fritzy gel packs and bubble gum," B'Elanna said, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile.

"_You_ did pretty well," he corrected, "because you're the best…which is why you should be on the Enterprise."

B'Elanna made a slight snorting sound as she laid her head down on his chest. "We've been over this, Tom. The Enterprise doesn't need someone who can handle temperamental equipment and think creatively about how to avoid maintenance overhauls. The Enterprise needs a decorated career officer who can keep everything spic and span while biding her time until promotion to captain."

Tom raised his eyebrows until he thought they were going to meld into hairline, and that distance, he remembered sorely, had grown considerably farther since Miral's birth. Instinctively he brought his left hand to the top of his head. More skin showing up there than he'd like, but still plenty of hair. For now. "It _is_ a prestige assignment," he conceded, "but not necessarily a boring one. I'm sure you'd have plenty of assistants to help you if you want to continue your propulsions research. Anyway, what are you going to do? Turn it down if you get it? You'd never be given a promotion again."

"Turning it down would definitely be the end of my career," she agreed, but added sharply, "_if_ I got it. That's not likely."

"You don't know that," he reminded her softly.

"What if the Enterprise turns out to be as dangerous as Voyager?"

"It's a family ship. Plenty of children on board whose parents seem to think they're okay there."

"Mmm," was B'Elanna's only response. "I hate the idea of taking you away from a job you love. What do you think would happen if we were in different sectors?"

"I think I'd miss you and spend all my free time sending you communiqués."

"You'd have a new holodeck program before the Enterprise left spacedock!"

"But you'd be the girl in it."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of you spending quality time with holo-B'Elanna."

"To be honest, neither am I." He studied her face with mock seriousness. "I'm not sure I could program the nuances of the character quite right."

"And Miral?" she reiterated. "There's still that question."

"Not to mention the next one."

"Next one?" She shook her head, clearly not ready to start that discussion again. "It hasn't happened yet."

"Exactly. How's it going to if we're apart?" he asked.

"Tom, please don't tell me you're trying to convince me to turn down the Enterprise so we can have a baby."

"No," he assured her. "I'm trying to remind myself why I should go with you."

B'Elanna looked deep into his eyes for a silent minute. Then she straddled him, bracing herself by her hands on the bed on either side of him. She leaned down and kissed him slowly, deliberately. _Kahless, I love this man._

* * *

**Dokkara Prime, Archaeological Institute, Office of Professor Chakotay**

Chakotay rubbed his eyes slightly and threw the padd he was reading onto his desk. After four straight hours of reading student papers (poorly written at that), he decided he needed a break. He activated his computer and went through a week's worth of messages he'd received and never read.

He was halfway through a message from Ayala, skimming more than reading, when a name caught his eye and forced him to pay more attention. Janeway. _What's Ayala doing talking to her?_ Chakotay reread the paragraph. Not talking to Janeway, it seemed. Janeway to Harry, Harry to Ayala, and now Ayala to him. It was an inefficient way of hearing about his old captain, but it would have to suffice. If she wanted a less circuitous route of communication, she would have contacted him directly.

They hadn't spoken directly since the Voyager debriefings. They had mutual friends who, sometimes at their request and sometimes annoyingly without it, filled them in on each other's lives. He knew she was still at Starfleet Command and that she'd reclaimed her family home in Indiana. And now, if Ayala was a reliable resource, he knew she was lonely enough to ask Harry to accompany her to a reception.

It was strange to think that not too long ago they'd been each other's best friends. They'd eaten dinner together once a week, lunch together more often than that, spent hours sitting side by side on the bridge of Voyager, trading confidences just slightly out of earshot of the rest of the crew. He had devoted his life to working at her side.

And it all changed when he had decided to stick within transporter range of someone else. Someone who had ultimately broken his heart. He felt hurt and stupid to think about how he'd destroyed his relationship with Kathryn Janeway, and he felt terribly guilty to have caused a rift between her and Seven. At least the two of them been able to patch things up before Seven's death.

_Seven's death. _It still wasn't fully real to Chakotay. He only wished he and Seven had been able to patch things up before she died. But they hadn't, and here he was – far from the sacred places of his grandfathers, with only the proximity of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris to offer him comfort.

**_USS Voyager, Main Engineering, 2378_**

"_Chakotay, what the hell is going on between you two?"_

"_Is that any of your business?"_

"_Yeah, it is," B'Elanna replied. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a console, staring him down with confidence._

"_I'm not sure I like your tone," he said, trying to occupy himself with the calculations displayed in front of him._

_But B'Elanna wouldn't relent. "Seven?" she hissed, leaning close to him. "You're having an affair with Seven?"_

_He turned to look at her pointedly. "You're having Tom Paris's baby?" he shot back. He regretted using his future niece as a pawn like that, but he knew it would shut her up._

_As predicted, B'Elanna's hand went instinctively to her bulging belly. "That's not the same thing," she bristled._

"_Of course it's not," he acknowledged. "If you want to have a real conversation about this, as friends, we can talk privately when we're off-duty." Main engineering in the middle of alpha shift was not the place for the conversation. _

"_Look, Chakotay," she began in a much friendlier tone, "you can get involved with anyone you want –"_

"_You're damn right I can," Chakotay interrupted. "I don't need your permission."_

"_I know," she agreed, looking slightly humbled. She smoothed her hair off her face the way she always did when she felt awkward. "I just meant that I'm hurt you didn't say anything before."_

"_Because I knew you'd react like this."_

_B'Elanna sighed. "Seven and I aren't exactly mortal enemies anymore. Actually, I've come to respect her."_

"_Good. She respects you, too."_

_B'Elanna opened her mouth to voice her surprise, but Nicoletti called across engineering for her. She nodded, signifying that she would be there shortly. "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?" she suggested. "We can talk more then."_

_Dinner in her quarters meant dinner with Tom, and while he certainly didn't mean to insult her choice of spouse earlier (after all, he had grown to respect and even like Tom over the years), he wasn't certain he wanted him to know the intimate details of his current romance with Seven of Nine._

_B'Elanna must have sensed his apprehension. "I can send Tom the holodeck with Harry."_

_The offer alone alleviated his concerns. "No, no, dinner with both of you tonight sounds nice."_

_Little did Chakotay know that accepting the invitation would set the tone for the next twenty years of his life, that B'Elanna – and Tom – would be there when he decided to move to Dokkara Prime when his relationship with Seven fell apart, when a new one began, when he moved to Earth, and when he finally got married. _

"_B'Elanna? Can we keep this to ourselves for now?"_

"_On a ship this small?" she said as she started to move away._

"_There's one person in particular who doesn't need to find out through the rumor mill," he said with a slight raise of his eyebrows._

_She got the message. She nodded her understanding before disappearing behind the warp core._

* * *

**Starbase 174, Flight Simulation Center**

Bursting with news, B'Elanna had rounded up Miral from school precisely two minutes after her shift ended. They stood in the flight sim lab, waiting for Tom's shift to end and watching the full-size runabout connected to the computer as Tom programmed a series of commands into the helm controls.

"That's it," the officer on duty reported to her. He punched a few commands onto the console in front of him, checking the simulated flight of the runabout. "He's finished."

B'Elanna nodded, and a moment later Tom emerged. As soon as he saw them, his face broke into a grin. "Hi, ladies," he called happily as he strode over to them. Miral reached out, and he pulled her from B'Elanna's hip to his own. He kissed her on the cheek. "What's this all about?"

They started back toward their quarters as B'Elanna explained, "Beoro decided to pay us an announced visit today."

Tom winced slightly. "I hope Harding wasn't on duty."

"She wasn't," B'Elanna said with a naughty grin.

"What did he want?"

"Oh," she said, trying to sound as casual as possible, "he just wanted to know if I needed any additional storage containers for my personal belongings." Tom turned to her with a quizzical expression on his face. "For the move."

"The move?" he repeated. Then it clicked. "You got the Enterprise." She nodded. "B'Elanna…"

His eyes were wide with excitement for her, and B'Elanna smiled, happy to have him on her side. "Apparently, Captain Klees enjoyed talking with me, and he was impressed with my ideas on fuel conservation. He said he wanted to work with a real engineer. He even made a joke that if we clash personalities, at least I'll be twenty decks away."

"I can't believe it," Tom said as they rounded the corner toward their quarters. "I'm so proud of you."

"Oh, there's more," she assured him. She stopped right at their door and waited. Miral was too short to enter a code to open the door, but B'Elanna had programmed their quarters with voice authorization for her. They knew she liked being the one to open the doors, so they tried to always let her do it.

"Computer, open door, authorization Miral Paris," the child commanded. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

"Apparently," B'Elanna continued, "in addition to the letter from Beoro, Captain Klees got two recommendations – one from Janeway –"

"Of course," Tom interrupted.

"And one from Admiral Paris."

"Paris?" Tom repeated, putting Miral down. "My father?"

B'Elanna nodded. "If that isn't some serious nepotism…"

Tom shook his head. "No way. Not from my dad. He wouldn't write either of us a recommendation unless he really meant it. He cares too much about Starfleet to do that." He thought for a moment. "Klees must have known that, too, or he wouldn't have really considered it a boon to your candidacy."

"Well, what I want to know is, who told him? And why didn't he talk to us before recommending me?"

"The admiral probably told him," Tom suggested.

B'Elanna was shaking her head in slight disbelief. "I can't believe Klees chose me."

Tom slid an arm around her waist. "He made the right choice." He put a hand along her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek, and pulled her in for a kiss. "Congratulations. When do you ship out, chief?"

"That's part of the problem," she said earnestly. "The Enterprise is scheduled to be here in two weeks. We're supposed to perform maintenance on the deuterium injectors. Then, I guess, I board." She looked over at Miral, who was looking at a picture book on a data padd. "We'd better start making plans."


	5. Chapter 5

**Starbase 174, School and Nursery  
**

"How was she today?" Tom Paris asked the Bajoran teacher anxiously as he watched his daughter clean up her supplies.

"A little rambunctious," the teacher admitted. "She and Delvin thought it might be interesting to see if the class iguana liked being painted."

Tom cringed. "I'm really sorry."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about, Lieutenant. It's normal for children to be curious and to experiment with the world around them. I think Mikey's going to be fine."

"Mikey?"

"The iguana."

Miral approached her father, throwing her hands on her hips defiantly. "I learned about you today," she declared.

"Oh really?" he challenged, putting his hands on hips in imitation of her.

She extended her arms upward, signaling she wanted him to carry her, and he picked her up. He thanked the teacher as they headed out into the corridor.

"We learned about warp drive," Miral continued en route to their quarters.

"What did you learn about warp drive?"

"We learned it makes ships go fast. You went the fastest. You went warp ten."

"Oh," Tom said, surprised. He had forgotten. "I guess I did, munchkin. They really taught you that in school?" He had expected a lesson on the work they were doing in propulsions technology at the starbase, not his "one for the history books" transwarp flight that ended in disaster.

"Daddy, did you turn into a lizard?"

"It wasn't a lizard exactly," he explained. "More like a human from a different time. Remember when you learned about evolution? About how apes became humans and dinosaurs became birds? Anyway, warp ten was really dangerous because of what happened to me, so that's why no one else has ever done it. It's called the theory of infinite velocity. Did they teach you that?"

Miral frowned, and in that moment Tom thought she was the spitting image of B'Elanna. "But Captain Janeway was with you."

Tom took a moment to consider how to proceed, wondering in that second just how much about that mission Miral had learned in school, but thankfully they arrived at their quarters. Miral gave the vocal command for the doors and nearly jumped out of his arms. She ran into her bedroom, allowing him to successfully dodge a proverbial bullet.

* * *

**New Technologies Design Lab**

"Lieutenant Commander Torres, please report to shuttle bay three."

"What?" B'Elanna looked crankily up from the specs in front of her. "Why do they need me there right now?"

"Maybe they need you to go somewhere," Ensign Harding suggested.

B'Elanna closed her eyes. Competent engineer, perhaps. Competent in any other way, questionable. "Harding, just run the analysis on the EPS relays while I'm on gone."

B'Elanna marched out of her office, out of her department – taking a quick pause to smile as always at her name on the door – and into the turbolift. A moment later she emerged on a different deck and entered the third shuttle bay.

"What is it?" she demanded of the officer on duty. "Don't tell me there's another problem with that new runabout."

"No, sir," the officer on duty reported. "You have a visitor." He nodded at a small shuttlecraft as the hatch opened and Kathryn Janeway emerged.

"Admiral?" B'Elanna called in disbelief.

"B'Elanna!" Janeway stepped out and warmly embraced her former chief engineer.

"Admiral, what are you doing here?" B'Elanna asked, returning the embrace.

Janeway smiled. "I got your letter."

"I don't understand. So you came all the way here?"

"I'm an admiral now. The minute I want to go somewhere," she explained, lowering her voice, "they put me in a shuttle with a jumpy-looking ensign, and here I am."

"Well, would you like me to show you around the base?" B'Elanna asked as they headed toward the exit.

Janeway put an arm around her. "B'Elanna, I know how starships are made. Show me that gorgeous daughter of yours."

* * *

**Luna, Copernicus City, Residence of Lucille Lipschitz**

Harry Kim straightened his uniform slightly as they waited for the door to open. Libby noticed and brushed the lint of his shoulder with an encouraging smile. Then she squeezed his hand.

"You're going to be great," she whispered. "She'll love you."

The front door to the modest residence opened, and Libby's mother greeted them. She was all of a meter and a half tall and only about fifty kilos, with gray-white hair that had been styled into a perfect up-do. She wore dark lipstick on her thin lips, which made them menacing at first, but they soon stretched into a smile.

She embraced her daughter, kissing her on the cheek. This left a smudge of lipstick that Libby, having years of experience, didn't need to be warned to wipe off with the back of her hand.

"Mother, you remember Harry Kim," she introduced.

The woman's sharp brown eyes narrowed as she sized him up. "I remember _Cadet_ Harry Kim," she corrected. "A young man with an eye for my daughter and for a captaincy."

"Harry's a full lieutenant now," Libby boasted. "He's stationed in San Francisco."

"It's really nice to see you again, Mrs. Lipschitz," Harry said politely. He extended his hand toward her.

"Bah!" she spat, waving his hand away. "It's Lucille." She reached for his face and pulled him down for a warm kiss on the cheek. Then she wiped her lipstick from his cheek with her thumb. "It's good to see you again. Come in."

She opened the front door wider, and they followed her inside. After a few moments of pleasantries, Libby disappeared into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. As soon as she was gone, Lucille hurried to take her seat next to Harry, smiling at him. He noticed that she and Libby had the same eyes and the same smile. The only difference was that Lucille's face looked as though it had seen a few more years.

"Harry, my darling, this is a real pleasure for me," she began, taking his hand into her lap and squeezing it. "Libby doesn't introduce me to any of the men she dates. And you've only been together…what?...two months?"

"That's right," Harry said, "not counting the time before."

"Well, you were gone for seven years. That's a long time apart."

"It was," Harry said with some regret. And two years was not a long time to be back, but already the seven he spent in the Delta Quadrant seemed like a distant memory. It hadn't taken long for him to feel as if he had never left the Alpha Quadrant. Except, of course, for the friendships he had made on Voyager. He didn't think of his relationship with Libby as interrupted by his extended mission to the other side of the galaxy; he thought of them as having started fresh, as two new people. Nevertheless, before Voyager he had hoped to build a life with her, and Harry was hopeful that it was once again a possibility.

"You don't look a day older," Lucille noted. "But you are, and so is my daughter. It's time to start thinking about a family."

Harry suddenly realized it was taking Libby an awfully long time to replicate tea. "Lucille, did Libby put you up to this?"

"Shh," she urged as Libby entered the room with a tray of tea and biscuits. Lucille vacated the place next to Harry and returned to the armchair on the other side of the coffee table. Libby set the tray down and promptly took up position at Harry's side on the sofa.

Casually, with no indication of her previous conspiracy, Lucille asked her daughter, "You're coming to the family reunion next month, aren't you?"

"Of course," Libby replied. "At Uncle Ben's house in Tel Aviv. I wouldn't miss it for the world." She turned toward Harry to explain. "My Uncle Ben is my mother's only brother. Every year we have a family reunion, either there or here. This year he and my Aunt Mildred are hosting. I don't think you ever met any of them."

"No, I don't think so."

"Harry, are you coming?" Lucille asked suddenly.

Harry found himself at a loss for words. A million thoughts flashed through his mind. A family reunion was for family, for one thing. Was Lucille calling him family? Wouldn't Libby have already asked him if she wanted him to go? What would it mean for him to be included in a family reunion? Did he even want to go? Now Libby might invite him because she felt she had to. Would that annoy her? Would it annoy him? What was her family like, anyway? Had Libby ever brought a boyfriend to the reunion before? How long was the reunion? Could he get enough leave, or would he have to take a shuttle back to work? All that came out of his mouth, though, was, "Ahhh…."

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"Hello!" B'Elanna called as she and Janeway entered her quarters. "Tom?"

"What are you doing home?" Tom asked, coming out of their bedroom. He saw Janeway and smiled broadly. "Admiral, what…?"

"Tom," she said affectionately, taking his face in her hands before embracing him. She noticed something moving at his feet and knelt down. "Miral?"

She hid behind her father's leg but poked her head out in curiosity.

"Miral," Tom coaxed, "don't be shy. Say hello to Admiral Janeway."

Miral's ears perked up. "Admiral Janeway?"

"The one and only," Tom told her.

"Does she know Captain Janeway?"

"She's the same person," he explained. "She changed her name. Now it's Admiral Janeway. You know her. You've seen her at the Voyager reunions." He pushed his daughter a step forward.

"Did you turn into a lizard?"

Janeway looked up at Tom and B'Elanna with confusion, and Tom explained simply, "Warp threshold."

"Ah," Janeway said, kneeling down to the child's level. "Yes, Miral, I suppose I am the lady who turned into a lizard."

"I learned about you in school."

"I knew you when you were just a little baby," Janeway told her. "You were born the day Voyager got home. And I baby-sat you on Mariana Two when you were this big." She demonstrated with her hands, but Miral was no longer paying attention.

"Admiral, not that I'm unhappy to see you, but what are you doing here?" Tom asked.

Janeway took his hand to stand up. "I want to talk to you about your career." Tom turned to B'Elanna inquisitively. "Don't look at her. She has nothing to do with this." Janeway led Tom to his own dining table. "Replicate me some coffee, and let's talk."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sensing the admiral desired some privacy, B'Elanna scooped Miral up. "What do you say we go to the lounge and get some ice cream?"

"Yeah," Miral agreed.

"Don't spoil dinner," Tom warned.

B'Elanna kissed him lightly. "Call us when you're done."

"Miral," Janeway said kindly, "I hope to talk to you later."

"Bye, Lizard Lady!" Miral called as B'Elanna carried her out the door. She laughed hysterically as the doors hissed shut.

"I'm sorry about that," Tom apologized. "She's going through a phase where she thinks she's the funniest person in the world."

Janeway laughed. "I wonder where she gets that," she said, giving him a knowingly look. "She's cute, Tom. Precisely a combination of you two, I'd say. You don't send pictures often enough."

"You sound like my parents."

"Let's talk, Tom," she said in a gravelly voice that indicated it was time to get down to business. "You know I recommended B'Elanna for the Enterprise."

"She told me – you and my father." Tom went to the replicator. "Two cups of coffee, black." The machine whirred, and the mugs materialized. He brought them back over the table and took a seat opposite the admiral.

"Thank you," Janeway said, taking a cup. "She didn't ask me for the recommendation, Tom, and I didn't discuss it with her first. I know I should have talked to her – to both of you. I was asked to submit names for several assignments, and when I saw the position, I thought of her. When she advanced to the next round of candidacy, I was asked for a formal letter of recommendation. I know she's capable, and I was happy to recommend her."

"Well, we're both very grateful, and I know B'Elanna's flattered."

"Tom," Janeway continued, "I didn't mean to leave you out or to put you in an awkward position. That's why I came here. Now, tell me what it is you want to do with your career, and let's see about making that happen."

Tom looked into his coffee, absorbing it all. "I don't quite know what to say."

"You're the best pilot I've ever met, and getting you out of that penal colony was one of the best decisions I could have made. And I'm sorry when I had to drop your rank –"

"No, no, Admiral," he assured her. "I was never angry about that. I was upset at myself for disappointing you. You – you gave me the chance to be the person I am today. I look around at my life now, and I think it's all because of you."

**_USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, Captain__'__s Ready Room, 2375_**

_Tom cleared his throat lightly as he clasped his hands behind his back. He was anxious about having this conversation, but all the same he was glad it was happening so soon. They hadn't spoken in thirty days, after all, and they certainly couldn't avoid each other now that he was back on duty. Not when she usually spent a good hour of the day standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder._

_Captain Janeway looked up, and he could see that she felt as awkward as he did. But there was no longer the anger he'd seen in her eyes thirty days before. That had to count for something._

"_Tom," she began, and right away he knew she was avoiding calling him by rank, "have a seat." He sat. "I can't forget what's happened, but I'd still like you to continue working on the bridge and serving as a senior officer."_

_Some good news. "I'd like that, too, ma'am," he said sincerely._

_Janeway nodded. "I can't have you on the bridge if you're going to resent me for this."_

"_Captain, with all due respect, I did what I thought I had to do, and you did what you thought you had to do in return. I don't resent you. I respect your commitment to your duty."_

_She nodded again. "Good. And I trust you'll be equally committed to yours? And this time it will be the duty I outline for you?"_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

"_I'll see you on the bridge in a few minutes. Dismissed."_

_Tom rose to his feet but paused at the door. __Should I risk it?__ He wasn't all together sure they were ready for the banter they'd once enjoyed together. __Oh, hell, why not?__ "Captain? Thanks for giving B'Elanna one more thing to lord over me."_

_Janeway winked with a crooked smile. "That was the real punishment all along."_

_Tom grinned as he stepped onto the bridge._

"I'm grateful for everything you've done for me," Tom continued. "And for B'Elanna. To be honest, I don't know how I feel about taking any more of your charity."

"It's not charity, Tom," Janeway disagreed. "_You_ made this life for yourself, and I'm proud of you." She looked intently at him, and he believed her. "Now tell me what you want to do."

"I really like testing new ships."

"The adventure, mmm?" Tom nodded. "Did you and B'Elanna ever talk about having more children?"

"Admiral, what exactly did she tell you?"

Janeway smiled. "She told me she was given the chief engineer position and thanked me for my recommendation. Then she explained that she was turning it down – to keep her family together and to support you."

"What?" Tom was stunned. "And that's why you came?"

"That's why I came. She didn't tell you, did she?" Janeway said, noting his surprise.

"No," Tom said earnestly. "If she had, I wouldn't have let her do it."

"That's why I intercepted her letter to Captain Klees. She doesn't know that yet."

Tom shook his head. It seemed to him that they would spend the rest of their lives being indebted to Kathryn Janeway. He commented on as much. But Janeway, patting his arm in that old familiar way, reassured him that her only objective was to help them become the finest officers they could be so that they could help mentor others in turn. Tom knew that there was a lot more to it than simple mentorship.

* * *

**Observation Lounge**

B'Elanna watched her daughter making a mess. Miral had chocolate ice cream all over her chin and hands, and a puddle of melted gloop was slowly spreading across the table. It mildly amused B'Elanna to see how artlessly her daughter fed herself, but she was deep in thought about Janeway's surprise visit. No doubt by now Janeway had told Tom she turned down the Enterprise.

_Well, that saves me from having that conversation with him._

"Hey, Miral," she said suddenly as a second thought occurred to her. "What do you say we invite your uncle to dinner tonight?"

Miral nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah."

"You think we should?" Miral nodded again, and then so did B'Elanna. Part of her knew it was a terrible idea, but part of her justified it by obtaining Miral's consent. She knew she was going to invite Chakotay to dinner, and she knew she wasn't going to tell him or the admiral the other was coming. She and Tom had been stuck between them for two years, with her mostly on Chakotay's side and Tom on the admiral's, and she was making the decision that the game was over. Seven of Nine was dead, and nothing anything of them could do would change that fact, no matter how much they wanted to. B'Elanna thought they might as well move on and try to repair whatever damage Chakotay and Seven's relationship had done.

**_Earth, Mariana Island Two, 2378_**

_Seven of Nine wished the Doctor was around. It seemed unfair of Starfleet to isolate him from the rest of his crew, and she in particular was feeling the loss. Although she had never completed all of his socialization lessons, Seven had learned enough about reading human behavior to know that Captain Janeway was behaving strangely toward her. She sensed it had to do with her relationship with Chakotay, though she didn't fully understand why. That was why she needed the Doctor: she'd learned how to diagnose problems, but she could not yet isolate a treatment._

_Before they left Voyager, the Doctor had given her a final piece of advice. He had reminded her that the captain, Chakotay, Tuvok, Ensign Kim, and Lieutenant Torres had all been her advisors at one time or another, and though she might feel she needed the Doctor's counsel, she had a number of shipmates on whom she could rely. But there was only one person the Doctor trusted to take charge of Sick Bay in his absence, and he told her that she could trust him, too._

_Tom Paris seemed like an unlikely choice for a confidant, but Seven took the Doctor's advice seriously. If he trusted Lieutenant Paris, she would endeavor to do the same. She had observed that he was, after all, more serious and responsible since learning of Lieutenant Torres' pregnancy. He wasn't the "erratic individual" he had been a year before._

"_Lieutenant Paris, I require your assistance," she demanded, stepping into his cabin. Tom looked up from changing Miral's diaper with confusion. Seven paused. It was an inefficient approach if her intention was a conversation of a personal nature. "I am sorry for intruding," she began again. "I would like your advice."_

_Tom sanitized his hands and then picked up the baby, cradling her against his chest. "Sit down, Seven," he said kindly. "But we have to keep it down. B'Elanna's asleep in the back."_

"_Perhaps I should return at a more appropriate time."_

"_No, it's fine. Sit down." He made himself comfortable in an armchair, propping his feet up on an ottoman, still holding the baby against his shoulder. "You want my advice?"_

_Seven sat in the chair opposite him, her back ramrod straight. "Before we left Voyager, the Doctor suggested I turn to you for any personal matters, as well as medical."_

"_I didn't know he had that kind of confidence in me," Tom said thoughtfully. Seven observed that Lieutenant Paris seemed touched. "Well, what's bothering you?"_

"_Lieutenant Torres has no doubt told you of the nature of my relationship with Chakotay?" she began. "I have observed that since Chakotay and I entered the bridge together three days ago, Captain Janeway has behaved differently toward me. I believe my relationship with Chakotay is the source of the tension, and I wish to address the matter with her in a way that will restore our relationship." Her voice softened as she continued, "I value Captain Janeway's role in my life. I do not wish to upset her."_

"_Have you talked to Chakotay about this?" Tom asked._

"_He has encouraged me to 'make amends' with the captain, but he does not wish to have a conversation of a similar nature with her."_

"_And you're stuck in the middle."_

"_Precisely."_

"Okay, Miral, stay here for a second," B'Elanna said. "I'll be right back." She crossed the room to the com panel on the wall and composed a message to Chakotay, inviting him to have dinner with her and Tom that evening. She knew he wouldn't refuse; it wasn't very often that he had anything else to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"Surely you can stay for dinner?" B'Elanna Torres asked Admiral Janeway as she returned two empty coffee cups to the replicator. "Where are you going to go, anyway?"

"Yeah," her husband joined in. "Why are you rushing off so fast, hot date?" Tom Paris had discovered that he could take greater liberties in speaking to Janeway now that she was not his direct superior. He also noticed that she enjoyed it.

"None of your business," Janeway admonished with a smile. "But I suppose I can stay a little longer." Janeway looked down at Miral. "Do you want to hear some funny stories about your parents?" Miral nodded, and Janeway held out her hand. Miral took it, and together they went over to the sofa together.

Once they were out of earshot, Tom admonished B'Elanna, "You didn't tell me you turned down the Enterprise."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "What did she want to talk to you about?"

"She wanted to know what I planned to do."

B'Elanna folded her arms over her chest and looked across the living room at Janeway and Miral. "It doesn't matter much now, does it? I mean, we'll all stay here."

Tom shook his head. "No way," he said firmly.

"Tom –"

But she was interrupted by a com from the transporter room. "You have a guest, Commander. It's –"

"Hey, Donovan," B'Elanna interrupted, "can you let him go without an escort? He's been here a hundred times. Just tell him to come to my quarters. Torres out." B'Elanna bit her lip and felt Tom looking at her expectantly. "All right," she whispered. "I invited Chakotay. Don't tell the admiral."

"B'Elanna…" Tom rubbed his eyes slightly. "You really have to stop making decisions without me. Especially the bad ones."

"This isn't a bad decision," she said, slightly miffed. "It's about time the two of them had a conversation together."

"I agree," Tom said, palming her shoulders. "I meant the Enterprise." He kissed her lightly. "You're getting on that ship next week, and that's final."

"You can't give me orders," she reminded him with a playful smirk. "I outrank you." He kissed her again. "And if I'm getting on that ship, you'd better be getting on it with me."

"Well," Janeway called, interrupting their private moment as politely as she could, "what are we having for dinner?"

"Pizza!" cried Miral.

"You are your father's daughter," Janeway laughed.

"We can replicate anything you want," B'Elanna offered.

Janeway held up a hand. "Pizza sounds great. What should we have on top, Miral?"

Tom tried to warn her, but before he could say anything, Miral yelled, "_Gagh_!"

The door chimed sounded, and B'Elanna's face immediately clouded over with guilt. "Uh, Admiral, we invited a friend," she said cryptically.

Janeway recognized his imposing stature immediately, and if she hadn't, the tattoo that caught her eye next confirmed its owner's identity. Chakotay. She should have known Tom and B'Elanna would set her up.

Chakotay nodded to B'Elanna and slapped Tom heartily on the back.

"Kotay!" Miral called.

Chakotay's face burst into a dimpled grin, and he bent over to pick her up. "Hey, kid, what's new?"

She pointed at Janeway. "This is Lizard Lady!"

Chakotay was aware that Janeway was watching him carefully, and he decided to make light of the surprise reunion. He laughed with Miral. "Actually, her name is Kathryn, and she is my very good friend. And you are my friend. So that means she is your friend too." Her eyes were still on him, so Chakotay took a moment to set Miral down. Then he stood straight, looked directly at Janeway, and said simply, "Admiral."

Her hands were on her hips, as they so often were on the bridge of her ship. Tom and B'Elanna watched the reunion in silence, unsure of what would happen. "Chakotay," she replied with equal simplicity. After an awkward moment, she smiled, and they hugged.

Then Chakotay turned to B'Elanna. "So are we eating or what? I'm starving."

"Okay, pizza with _gagh_ coming up," she answered, heading toward the replicator.

"Uh, B'Elanna," he said, "make mine plain cheese."

* * *

When dinner was over, Tom and B'Elanna said their goodbyes to Janeway and Chakotay. Janeway would accept nothing less than tight embraces from both of them and their daughter. She was off to guest quarters one deck up, while she waited to rendez-vous with a ship headed for Earth the following day.

Chakotay and B'Elanna, whose friendship had long since proven itself, never really said emotional good-byes to each other; it was always till-we-meet-again or I'll-call-you-tomorrow. They simply waved non-dramatically, and B'Elanna said, "See you later."

Tom and Chakotay were a different story. Once enemies, then reluctant comrades, then finally friends, they had, over the years, arrived at a new place of understanding. B'Elanna loved and valued Chakotay, and so Tom had come to see and value some of the qualities she saw in him. B'Elanna had chosen Tom as her mate, and so out of deference to her Chakotay had come to appreciate why she had made that decision. Their love and respect for B'Elanna had given them a love and respect for each other.

They shook hands warmly, and B'Elanna heard her husband say, "Call us next week. We have tickets to the new opera."

Out in the corridor, the door safely closed behind them, Janeway and Chakotay looked at each other awkwardly. Without Miral around to create a distraction, they had no choice but to face each other directly.

It was Chakotay who took the initiative to speak first. "Do you have to be somewhere, Admiral?"

Janeway gave him one of her looks. Years ago, when he spent hours a day sitting by her side, he had chronicled each of them. _Which one is that? Number thirty-nine?_ "Kathryn," she corrected.

Chakotay smiled. "Kathryn," he repeated.

"Actually, I have about twenty hours. Do you think you could spare some time entertaining me?"

Now Chakotay smiled more sincerely. "Of course."

It was nearly 2300 by the time they'd gotten to his house, taken the tour, and caught up on old times. At first they were still on their best behavior, but by the second cup of coffee (herbal tea for him), it was comfortable, familiar. Chakotay was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he didn't want the evening to end. He noticed her eyelids were drooping a little, too.

"Kathryn, I didn't realize how late it was," he began slowly. He decided to take a risk, hoping she wouldn't misinterpret his intentions. "Would you like to stay here this evening?"

"Only if I wouldn't be intruding," she agreed.

"Not at all," he said sincerely. "I'll make up the guest bedroom, and in the morning I can show you my archive at the university before my morning class, if you'd like."

Janeway settled into Chakotay's guest room, a room full of wood and native art and earthen colors. His home was a distinct reflection of him, and it was so very different from her own. As she laid down to sleep under the handmade quilt that night, she thought about the days when these now acquaintances had been her only family.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Libby Lipschitz**

"Cheers," Libby said, tipping her glass of champagne. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday," Harry Kim echoed, taking a sip. He let the drink bubble in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed, savoring the taste. Then he leaned in to kiss Libby.

"I'm sorry I wasn't around to celebrate your thirtieth," she said, pulling a small box from between the cushions of the sofa. "I hope this makes up for it."

Harry looked at the small box in his hands and then back at her. She might have felt guilty that they had fallen out of touch and missed each other's thirtieth birthdays, but he didn't. Not if it meant spending his thirty-first alone with her. And the fact that her birthday was two days after his, that they could celebrate together, made it all the better.

"Open it," she urged.

He pulled the top off the box. Inside was an antique chronometer for the wrist. The strap was brown leather, heavily worn with age, and the surface of the chronometer itself was glass. The display featured several small circular gauges. Harry didn't know how to read it, and he certainly couldn't wear it to work, but he thought it was an amazing treasure nonetheless. "Libby," he breathed in appreciation.

"It belonged to my great-grandfather," she told him, fastening it around his wrist.

"It's incredible," Harry said honestly. He looked up at her. "We said we weren't going to give each other birthday gifts."

Libby shrugged. "I couldn't resist."

"Now I feel bad," he said, hoping she couldn't tell he was lying.

"Oh, don't," she said a little flatly. She took a drink of her champagne, and Harry could tell it was to cover her disappointment.

"Because all I got you was this," he finished, retrieving a small box from the pocket of his pants. He handed it to her with a broad smile.

Libby smiled, too, and opened it eagerly. "Oh, Harry, it's beautiful," she declared. She pulled the sapphire ring from the box and tried it on.

"That ring has been in my family for over two hundred years. It was initially given to one of my ancestors on her wedding day."

Libby looked at him in surprise. "Wedding day?"

Harry waved a hand quickly, dispelling her concerns. "I'm just telling you the history," he explained. "It's a beautiful ring, and you're a beautiful woman, and I'd like you to have it. That's all."

Libby gazed at the ring, smiling, and Harry wondered if she wasn't a little too relieved the ring didn't mean more.

* * *

**Dokkara Prime, Archaeological Institute, Office of Professor Chakotay**

It was 1430. Kathryn had spent a wonderful day catching up with Chakotay and looking through his archive of archaeological objects. She'd even seen him give a lecture on the differences between ancient stone spearheads to a group of mildly disinterested students. Now the hour of her departure was approaching, and she and Chakotay found themselves once again in an awkward position – though this time, for a much different reason.

"Chakotay," she said quietly, leaning intimately toward him over one last cup of coffee, "what's next?"

The question caught him off guard at that particular moment, even though it had been passing equally through his mind all day. He had healed some deep wounds in the last few years, and he'd begun to make a life for himself. He enjoyed his teaching position. He got to see his sister often. He baby-sat Miral Paris occasionally and played hoverball with B'Elanna once a week. He wasn't sure he wanted to uproot himself.

Kathryn had a life, too, he knew. She was years away from retirement, having been promoted to the rank of admiral at a relatively young age. She could probably write her own ticket until then, but she wasn't the type to settle into a quiet life. She was bold, commanding, in need of wielding power and hurling herself across the galaxy at a moment's notice.

"Chakotay?" she prompted.

"Sorry," he said. "To be honest, I was just thinking about other lives."

"Me, too," she confessed. "And timing."

"What's that old expression? 'Time is on our side'? That was never true of us."

"No, it wasn't," Kathryn admitted. "This can't lead anywhere, can it?" She put her coffee down on the table in a gesture of finality.

"No, I don't think it can," he agreed, "but I still care a great deal for you."

"So do I."

With nothing to either win or lose, Chakotay leaned forward and gently kissed Kathryn on the lips. They both closed their eyes and savored the moment, ten years in the making. Then they separated, and Kathryn patted his arm.

He watched her rise and walk out of his office.

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

Tom threw his daughter over a shoulder, holding onto her by the feet, and spun in a circle a few times. She screamed with delight. Then he sat down in front of the computer, with Miral still hanging off him.

"Anyway, Harry, what were you saying about the ring?"

"That I think she thought I was going to propose or something, and she got this look of terror in her eye," his friend reported on subspace.

"But she didn't run out of your apartment screaming," Tom said. "I wouldn't get upset about it. She was probably just worried you were moving too fast."

"I guess so," Harry said, still a little glumly.

"Daddy, flip me," Miral ordered.

"Hang on, Har." Tom stood up and held Miral's hands as she climbed up his legs to his knees and then pushed herself over into a flip. She shrieked with delight. Tom sat back down on the sofa. "So, wanna hear my big news? B'Elanna's going to be the chief engineer of the Enterprise."

"That's great!" Harry said with enthusiasm.

Tom found his reaction suspect. "You knew already."

"Sorry. Admiral Janeway told me a couple of days ago," Harry admitted. He forced a smile. "I'm really excited for her. And you and Miral – you're going, too?"

Tom shook his head slightly, indicating Harry shouldn't talk about it in front of his daughter. "Interview with Klees in a few days," he said quickly. Harry nodded his understanding. "Hey, munchkin, let's show Harry the Captain Proton rocketpack trick." Tom picked up Miral, who made her body as stiff as she could, arms stretched out in front of her. "Who are you?"

"Captain Proton, spaceman extra-lair, 'courge of inner-gatatic evil, at your service," Miral recited.

Tom set her down, as Harry commented from the monitor, "Pretty good, kiddo. Now you have to convince your dad to let you actually be Proton on the holodeck."

"Daddy says I'm not old enough for the holodeck."

Harry laughed. "Maybe not until he does a little editing to the program."

Tom started tickling Miral, who screamed and laughed at the top of her lungs. It was enough to bring B'Elanna rushing out from their bedroom.

"What is going on?" she demanded, zipping her uniform tunic. She looked at her husband and daughter, both in their pajamas with uncombed hair. "You're not even dressed!"

"Will you relax? I'm not on duty this morning. Miral and I are staying here to play."

"At least make her get dressed," B'Elanna scolded. "And put some clothes on yourself." She looked at the active computer monitor. "You talk to Harry in your pajamas?"

"Hi, B'Elanna," Harry called.

"Hi, Harry, what's new?"

"Going to Libby's family reunion," he reported. "I'm pretty nervous. I hope they like me."

"Like you?" Tom said kindly. "They're going to love you."

"What's not to love?" B'Elanna added. She turned to her husband. "Five more minutes, then feed her breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," Tom mocked quietly as she disappeared back into their bedroom. He returned his attention to Harry. "So when Admiral Janeway was here yesterday, B'Elanna decided to invite Chakotay to dinner without telling either of them."

Harry's eyes widened. "And?"

Tom shrugged. "We didn't hear from either of them last night. I'll have to pump Chakotay for information when we go to the opera next week."

"You're going to the opera next week? Really?"

"You _don't_ go to the opera?" Tom challenged.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," Miral announced.

"Okay, munchkin."

"Call me when you know more about Chakotay," Harry said seriously before terminating their communication.

B'Elanna flounced back into the room. "You two are more gossipy than a convoy of prepubescent Ferengi."

Tom's face scrunched up a little. "You have to work on your metaphors."

"Never mind," she said. "Just don't be so quick to tell the whole galaxy what's going on with Chakotay."

"It's not the galaxy, B'Elanna," he argued as he went to the replicator. "It's Harry."

"That's how it starts," she said, helping Miral into a chair at the dining table. "Then Harry tells Reg and the Doctor, and who knows who they tell, and then suddenly Chakotay is getting gossip about his own life in letters from Ken Dalby."

"Dalby?" Tom asked, setting their breakfast on the table. "Does Chakotay still talk to him?"

B'Elanna sighed in exasperation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Earth, California, Napa Valley, Orion Vineyards**

Libby Lipschitz gently twisted a grape off the bunch and popped it into her mouth. As she thoughtfully chewed it, Harry Kim took a sip of his wine, eyeing her over the rim. The way the late afternoon light bounced off the waves of her hair and accentuated her creamy skin was intoxicating him more than the local chardonnay, and Harry felt himself being wrapped in a haze of love.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked a throaty whisper.

"You," she answered, shaking her head slightly. "Your disappearance. Your reappearance."

Harry reached across the table for her hand. "I think I'm falling in love with you." But as he looked at her, anticipating her reaction, the haze began to vanish. Libby let him keep hold of her hand, but she avoided his eyes and didn't answer.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she murmured before taking a sip of wine. "Let's take a walk around the vineyards before the sun sets."

Harry pushed back from his chair and offered his arm to Libby. She took it and held onto him tightly, intimately, in spite of the distracted look in her eyes. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Harry broached the subject again.

"Libby," he began in what he hoped was a genial, non-accusatory tone, "should my feelings be hurt right now?"

"Hmm?"

"I just told you I'm in love with you, and you didn't respond."

She stopped and turned to face him. Harry had the distinct impression he was a nanosecond away from getting his heart broken. He steeled himself as she laid her hand on his chest.

"I'm falling in love with you, too," she said. Her voice was slightly husky, and he saw in her eyes that she meant it. He kissed her for a second, until she pulled away. "Harry…where does this all lead?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to let myself get hurt again," she said somberly. "You're a Starfleet officer, and any day you could get killed in the line of duty or get sent to some remote outpost or go missing for another seven years." She shook her head. "I had to bury you once already. I can't do that again."

"I don't understand. Are you asking me to resign my commission?"

"No, no. You're dedicated to this life. It wouldn't be fair to ask you to give it up."

"Then what do you want me to do?" Harry felt a panic rising in his chest, and he really didn't like the look in her eyes.

The words came slowly, as if she was trying them on for size. "I guess I'm saying we should both stop falling in love before it's too late."

* * *

**Dokkara Prime, Capital City, Central Plaza**

B'Elanna Torres tapped three tickets to the opera against her open palm as she shifted her weight from one heeled boot to the other. "Where is he? It's freezing out here."

Her husband rubbed her bare arms with his two large hands. "Well, you look terrific." A large figure striding across the plaza caught his attention. "There he is."

"I'm sorry I'm late," Chakotay apologized as he approached them. "A faculty meeting ran longer than it was supposed to." He smiled in B'Elanna's direction. "You look nice."

"Thanks," she said quickly. "Let's go in. I'm cold."

As they followed the crowd into the opera hall, Chakotay asked, "So are you going to tell me why we're here? You two don't like opera. I don't like opera. What the hell are we doing here?"

"You'll see," B'Elanna teased.

Chakotay had thought they were attending a contemporary opera, and he was partially correct. Tom and B'Elanna had managed to keep the subject a surprise. It was a new piece, but the music and story were taken from ancient tribal legends of Earth. He was surprised he hadn't heard about it, but he was touched they had gone to the trouble of getting tickets and keeping the evening a surprise.

By intermission Chakotay had a content look on his face; he was enjoying the evening, and it showed. B'Elanna excused herself, and Tom, recognizing the opportunity, decided to move in for the kill. He just hoped B'Elanna wouldn't get too angry with him.

He waited a minute after she left, and then he began carefully. "Great seeing Admiral Janeway last week."

Chakotay nodded, scrolling through his program.

"Did she like your house?" Tom hoped his voice sounded casual.

B'Elanna was standing in the aisle with her hands on her hips. She was not fooled by Tom's decidedly uninterested tone of voice. As she slid past him to her seat, she banged his knees a little more than was necessary, and he pretended not to notice. But she was not fooled by that either.

Tom was in too deep to give up. He leaned around B'Elanna to continue his inquiry. "What did you and the admiral do all day?" He could feel B'Elanna's anger radiating from her body. He knew he'd have trouble at home later, but he couldn't stop until he had some concrete information.

"We went through my archive, and she sat in on a lecture I gave," Chakotay answered, equally casually.

"Oh, do you think you'll see her again?"

"Tom…" B'Elanna began as a warning.

He continued to look directly at Chakotay, but he could see B'Elanna's hostile stare in his periphery.

Chakotay sighed in defeat. "All right, you want to know what happened? I kissed her." Tom opened his mouth to respond, but Chakotay cut him off. "After we agreed that it would never go anywhere. I guess it's just been too long. We have very separate lives now."

The house lights began to dim, and they fell silent along with the rest of the audience. In the darkness, however, B'Elanna surreptitiously pinched Tom's bicep.

"Ow!"

"I told you to leave him alone," she murmured.

"Sorry, but weren't you curious?"

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Lieutenant Harry Kim**

"Go ahead and say it," Harry said glumly. "I know you want to."

"Say what?" Tom asked with confusion from the monitor.

"That I've once again fallen for the wrong woman and ruined any chance of a meaningful relationship."

Tom frowned. "Actually," he began kindly, "I was going to tell you that I think you've fallen for the right person this time."

Harry pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa over himself. Something about his last date with Libby had left him freezing. "But she said she didn't want to get too involved."

"She said she'd already buried you once," Tom reminded him. "She was heartbroken, Har. She's worried that being in a relationship with you means she'll have to live through that again. You have to convince her it doesn't. Don't give up on this one yet, Harry. Trust me."

Harry took a moment to absorb Tom's words. How many times had Tom given him advice that he really should have taken? Could Tom possibly tell from a hundred light-years away that Libby was right for him? _It doesn't matter if he thinks it. What matters is what I think. _ Harry nodded at the screen. "No, I'm not giving up so easily," Harry agreed. "I'm in love with her, Tom. What do I do? Resign my commission?"

"Don't resign," Tom advised. "Try talking to her first."

Harry nodded again. "I think I will." He shook his head, freeing himself from the burden of his own love life. "So?"

"So what?" Tom asked with confusion.

"Don't play dumb, Tom. What about Chakotay and Janeway?"

Tom glanced to his left for a moment. "Harry," he said in a voice his friend recognized as phony, "that's between them, and as far as I'm concerned, it's none of our business." A moment later, he leaned toward the computer and confided quickly, "They spent the whole day together, and before he left, they kissed. But they agreed it was too late to start anything. I think they're –" Tom stopped abruptly.

There was a blur across the screen, and then B'Elanna's face appeared.

"No more talking about Chakotay," she said authoritatively.

"Tom started it," Harry protested.

She was speaking equally to both of them. "Just leave him alone. Let them figure out whatever is happening between them. They don't need all of us gossiping about it behind their backs."

"You're right," Harry heard Tom say. The monitor showed only a patch of wall. There was an exchange between them that he couldn't quite make out, and then the screen blurred again as B'Elanna swiveled it back to her face.

"What's this about Libby?" she asked, her voice softer than before. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I'm going to try to talk to her about it, I guess."

"Do you want me to talk to her? Tell her what it's like to be married to a Starfleet officer?"

There was genuine sympathy in her eyes, even if she had been reprimanding him a minute earlier. Harry shook his head. "No, I think this is something we just have to resolve ourselves."

"Do you love this girl?" B'Elanna asked. He nodded. "And does she love you?"

"I think so," he admitted. He thought about the last time he'd seen her, during their date in Napa Valley, and the look in her eyes. She loved him, all right, even if she wanted to deny it. There was a knock at his door. "B'Elanna, I have to go."

"Hang in there," she said kindly.

Harry jogged to the front door and found Libby leaning against the corridor wall with one hand. She looked a little out of place, as if she wasn't quite certain how she'd arrived there. "Do you have company?" she asked with worry.

"No," he assured her, opening the door for her to enter. "Just talking on subspace."

"With your other woman, hmm? What about?"

"Nothing. Well, just Voyager gossip." He led her into the kitchen and ordered tea from the replicator.

"What sort of gossip?" Libby asked with mild interest as she placed a hand around a hot mug.

"Commander Chakotay and Admiral Janeway. When we were on Voyager, the amount of time we spent speculating about them could have filled an entire three-year mission."

"First officer and captain?" Libby said skeptically. "I didn't think that ever happened in real life."

"It doesn't. But it was a long trip, and we had to make our own fun."

She took a sip of her tea and then placed the mug on the counter with a thoughtful sigh. "Did anyone ever speculate about you?"

"Of course," he answered immediately. "They speculated about whether I was going to spend an evening on the holodeck with Tom or alone with my saxophone."

"Oh," she replied quietly.

Harry set his mug down. "Libby, can we talk seriously for a second?"

* * *

**Starbase 174, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

Although the intruder was silent, B'Elanna could feel his presence in the sonic shower behind her. "Wait your turn," she said, spinning to face him. "There's not enough room." How many times in six years had she said that to him?

He smiled wickedly. "Sure there is. Depends on how you stand."

"What do you have in mind, Tom Paris?" she asked with a smile of her own. Her arms slowly wrapped around his neck, and they kissed for a moment. "We have to pick up Miral in twenty minutes."

"She's at Delvin's. She's probably having the time of her life and doesn't want to come home."

"We promised Sani we'd pick her up by 0700, and you have to talk to Captain Klees at 0900," she reminded him. She kissed him one more time quickly and then tried to move past him out of the shower.

Tom caught her arm, stopping her. She turned to look back at him and saw his playfulness had been replaced by love. "It was nice to have an evening alone together, wasn't it?" he asked in a soft voice. "Just us?"

B'Elanna nodded with equal seriousness.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Lieutenant Harry Kim**

"Actually, Harry," Libby said, pushing her mug across the counter toward him, "that's why I came over here. I wanted to talk to you, too."

Harry had the nanosecond-before-heartbreak feeling again. He held his breath and waited.

Libby reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the jewelry box he'd given her. She slid it across the counter toward him. "It's beautiful, and it meant a lot to me that you gave it to me, but I can't keep it."

"Libby," he said, his voice catching slightly, "I told you it didn't have to mean anything. I just wanted to give you something special for your birthday."

"I don't deserve it," she said, eyes down. He thought he heard a lump in her throat. "Anyway, thank you, and I'm sorry, and I hope you can understand." She turned abruptly and started to leave.

Harry realized it wasn't a scene from a holovid – that Libby was actually leaving him, for good. He knew he couldn't let that happen. He hoisted himself over the kitchen counter and ran after her, beating her to the front door. He slammed his back against it, arms outstretched, preventing her from opening it.

"Harry, please don't make a scene."

"I'm not trying to make a scene," he said calmly. "I'm trying to stop both of us from doing something we'll regret." He paused and took a breath. "I know I'm in love with you, Libby Lipschitz, and I can't let you walk out this door right now unless you can convince me you're not in love with me, too."

"Harry." It was a whisper. A plea.

It gave him confidence. He shook his head. "I'm a Starfleet officer," he continued, "and that means I'll always be in dangerous situations. I can't promise you that nothing will happen to me. But you can't promise that either. We have no way of knowing what's going to happen every day when we wake up. So let's just accept that, and wake up together."

The last part made her smile slightly, but then she shook her head, dismissing it. "Do you have any idea what it was like when we didn't know if you were dead or alive?" she asked angrily. "Do you have any idea how awful it was to have everyone staring at me, knowing they were pitying me? To try to figure out whether or not it was okay to move on? Wondering if you were alive and had done the same thing? Do you know what it was like to attend a memorial service for you? James MacAllister gave a eulogy. I helped him write it."

"Don't you think it was just as awful for me? Libby, I dreamed about you for months. I imagined you were in my quarters on Voyager with me. I can't imagine what it's like to bury someone and have them turn up again unexpectedly, but I have to believe there's a reason we found each other again."

She hit his chest with a fist. "If you get lost in the Delta Quadrant again, I will find you and kill you."

"I'll stay on Earth," he pledged. "I don't have to get back on a starship."

Libby shook her head. "All you have ever wanted was to be a Starfleet officer. You're going to give up your career for a desk job? I can't let you do that."

He reached for her, and she let herself be drawn into his arms. "I've been in space," he said with conviction. "What I want now is to be with you."

Libby didn't say anything, but she looked at him for a long minute. She smiled slightly, sadly, and he could tell she had surrendered. "I didn't know how I was going to explain to my mother that you weren't coming to Tel Aviv, anyway."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Docked at Starbase 174, Captain's Ready Room**

"'In conclusion, apart from complementing Lieutenant Commander Torres's engineering skills, Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris is a noted pilot who has completed history-making flights and whose talents will surely be lost to Starfleet if he is not assigned to the helm of the Enterprise.'" Captain Klees tapped his computer off and looked across the desk. "These are some strong words of praise, Lieutenant. Do you really think your talents will be wasted if you aren't aboard the Enterprise?"

"No, sir, Captain, I will do my best at whatever assignment I'm given," Tom answered with humility. "I serve at the pleasure of Starfleet." He managed a tiny smile and hoped the captain couldn't see him wringing his hands in his lap. His mind flashed back to a time some fifteen years ago, when he'd wanted a chance to be on the Enterprise and had his hopes dashed by his father. Now the stakes were higher; he wanted the position, but not just because it was the Enterprise. He wanted it because he wanted to stay with his wife and daughter. The good name of Paris had gotten in his way last time. He only hoped the bad reputation of Tom Paris didn't get in the way now.

"Are you aware that the Enterprise already has plenty of officers who know how to fly the ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how do you intend to deal with the consequences of replacing some of them?"

Tom floundered for a second. On the Enterprise, unlike on Voyager, alpha shift helmsman was not a senior officer position, but it was still prestigious to fly the Federation's flagship. And booting someone from that job would no doubt complicate his social life.

"I'm not sure I know, Captain," he admitted slowly.

"Fortunately for you, our alpha shift helmsman's been promoted and will remain here at the starbase while she awaits her next assignment. You have quite fortuitous timing, Lieutenant."

That, Tom knew, tended to be true.

Klees shifted gears. "Mr. Paris, the Enterprise is a family ship, but even so, I don't like the idea of assigning married officers to the same vessel, particularly when one outranks the other. How do you feel about taking orders from your own wife?"

Now he had an answer. "I'm pretty used to it, in and out of uniform."

The captain did not return his smirk. Tom cleared his throat slightly and resumed a more neutral facial expression.

Klees was silent for a moment as he reactivated the computer in front of him. Tom wondered what he was thinking and tried not to let himself get consumed by doubt. He hoped Klees wasn't thinking about his conviction as a Maquis. Or the demotion Janeway had given him. Or the thirty days in the brig that had come with it. Or, worst of all, the stupid, regrettable Caldik Prime incident that always seemed to catch up with him, no matter how fast he ran.

_You don't know what he's thinking_, he chided himself. _Maybe he's thinking about whether or not you're a good dad._

Tom held his breath slightly. It was the only way he really wanted to be evaluated these days.

"I'll be honest with you, Mr. Paris," Klees said with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair. "When Picard retired, half the damn crew left. We've got plenty of people who know how to fly the ship, all right, but they're all itching to get on the Titan with Will Riker. We could use a little fresh blood around here. I'm not Picard. And this crew isn't Picard's crew anymore." He sized up Tom for a moment. "I suspect you can identify with the feeling of standing in the shadow of a giant."

Tom nodded solemnly. He could indeed.

"I want to build my own crew, an Enterprise that works for us." Klees tapped the computer off once again. "Transfer request approved. Dismissed."

The pronouncement was so sudden Tom didn't have time to fully grasp it before he was being summarily booted from the ready room. He stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants discreetly, and thanked the captain.


	8. Chapter 8

**Starbase 174, Outside the Holodeck**

"Close your eyes," B'Elanna Torres said with a mischievous smile.

Tom Paris attempted a frown at his wife's surprise for him. "Why do I have to close my eyes?" She didn't answer, opting instead to place her fingers over his eyes as she led him a few steps forward into the holodeck and allowed the door to close behind them. She removed her hands. Tom opened his eyes. They were in the middle of a nightclub of some kind.

"Let's get a table," B'Elanna said, still smiling. She took his hand and led him to a table very near the stage, which was set with some audio devices and a large drum set. Tom obediently sat down in one of the wooden chairs next to her.

"Are you going to tell me where we are?" he asked, returning her smile.

"No, you'll have to wait and find out."

A holographic waitress appeared and asked them for their drink order. B'Elanna looked at Tom and raised an eyebrow before she ordered two whiskeys, neat. Tom was impressed. Whatever she had programmed, she intended to take it seriously. He looked down at the small candle flickering on the table and then around the room to the rough stone walls. He couldn't begin to guess what she had cooked up. As she liked to remind him, the holodeck was his domain, but sometimes she got into the spirit of things and could be a really fun co-participant.

Just then the audience began to cheer wildly. Tom looked toward the stage, where four men with shaggy haircuts and matching gray suits were taking up their instruments. One of them sat in front of the drum kit with a dopey grin on his face, and the other three pulled guitar straps over their heads and stepped up to the audio-amplifying devices. Based on his knowledge of twentieth century machinery and fashion, Tom surmised that this was somewhere in the middle of the century and suspected it was going to be an evening of "rock and roll."

"Come on!" B'Elanna exclaimed, pulling him with some force out of his chair before he could answer.

They joined the crowd standing at the edge of the stage. As the music began, she turned to him and started dancing. She lifted one fist in the air, then alternated to the other with a jerk in her spine. Then she started gliding her feet on the floor. He watched her in amazement. _Kahless, I love that woman._

"It's called the 'mashed potato,'" she reported seriously.

If there was one thing he had learned after being married to B'Elanna for three years, it was that for all her tough exterior, she knew how to let her hair down in private. Chakotay, Harry, Vorik – none of them would have believed she was capable of performing a four hundred year old dance to rock and roll music. And he loved it.

"Don't just stand there staring," she instructed over the din of the music. "Follow my lead."

"'_Cause when I get home to you, I find the things that you do will make me feel all right."_

"Do you like the music?" she shouted.

"I love it! Where are we?"

"Some place in England. The band is called the Beatles, with an 'a.'" B'Elanna took his hands in her own and started swiveling her hips slightly from side to side. "This dance is called the twist," she explained.

As Tom followed her lead, he couldn't help studying her face. She'd deny it if he ever said it out loud, but he could tell she was enjoying herself, and not just for his sake. He felt a little aroused just thinking about it.

"_It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog."_

"Sing with the band!" she encouraged.

Tom looked around at the rest of the crowd and saw that they were dancing wildly and singing along. A few young women at the very front of the stage had their hands to their faces, as if in utter disbelief, and were crying and shrieking; everyone else, though, seemed to be having fun. After a minute, he realized the songs were fairly simplistic and easy to sing along with. He opened his blue eyes wide toward B'Elanna and grinned as he sang, "_It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog."_

More surprising than the program or the sight of B'Elanna Torres doing the twist was her moving her face mere centimeters from his own as she sang back to him in a slightly off-key voice that showed no sign of modesty, "_It's been a hard day's night. I should be sleeping like a log."_

Tom couldn't resist. While she was mid-lyric, he kissed her, and, after a second, she returned the kiss.

After a few more songs the Beatles with an 'a' left the stage. The crowd continued screaming for an encore, and Tom and B'Elanna took the opportunity to return to their table. Tom picked up his whiskey and smelled it appreciatively. Then he swirled the glass for a moment before lifting it to his lips. Over the warm amber liquid, he saw his wife throw her head back as she downed hers in one gulp. She plunked the glass back on the table with no sign anywhere on her face that the whiskey had burned going down. Tom wasn't sure if she knew it or not, but B'Elanna was doing everything possible to turn him on.

_How the hell did I get her?_ he wondered, sipping again.

She must have sensed his thought because she looked at him and smiled again. "This is your congratulatory party," she explained. "I'm proud of you for that interview with Captain Klees."

_All I did after you got promoted was make you dinner_, he realized with some regret. He'd have to remember he owed her one. Tom reached across the table for her hand and squeezed it. "This program is great, but watching you sing and dance is even better."

"You tell anyone…"

"I know, I tell anyone, and I'll never see you dance again."

"Not after I pluck your eyes out with my bare hands," she threatened easily. She nodded toward the stage. "The next act is about to go on."

"Next act?" Tom turned to see a man with a poufy black hairdo and a ridiculously tight, spangled jumpsuit step out on the stage. Once again, the crowd went crazy. "Who is that?"

B'Elanna's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why, Tom, it's Elvis!" She nearly leapt from her seat to join the crowd on the floor.

Tom followed her as the man on stage removed the metal audio device from the pole holding it up and put it a little too close to his mouth, amplifying his breathing throughout the nightclub. "Well, thank you, thank you very much," he said with a slight lip curl. Tom watched him with some amusement. He'd heard of Elvis Presley all right, but he had never thought of putting the singer in a holodeck program.

A redheaded woman in sequined shorts joined Elvis on stage and leaned toward him as they took turns singing into the same microphone.

"_The lady loves me, and it shows, in spite of the way she turns up her nose."_

Tom took B'Elanna's hands and led her in a dance of his own. After a moment, he shouted over the music, "This song reminds me of how you first felt about me." B'Elanna made a face but kept dancing with him.

"_The lady loves me, but she doesn't know it yet."_

Tom began to take more liberties with his dance moves. After a moment he had B'Elanna twirling and gliding across the floor in his arms. The slightest pressure of his hand on her back, and she instinctively knew how he wanted her to move. It wasn't that they were particularly skilled. Tom had learned when he was a teenager that girls appreciate good dancers, but he was rusty and B'Elanna had never studied dancing. It was their symbiosis in real life that made them as good together on the dance floor as they were in bed, reading each other's bodies carefully and anticipating each other's movements. Tom initiated a double twirl that ended with B'Elanna cradled in his arms, her back to his chest, as the music ended. He kissed her temple.

"You're a pretty good dancer," he told her as the room went quiet.

"I have a pretty good partner," she replied.

The next song was a slow one, and B'Elanna was thankful that he had taught her how to "slow dance" during the mandatory party their last night on Voyager. She slowly lifted her arms around his neck and felt his slide around her waist as he pulled her close. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as Tom tipped his head into hers.

"_Wise men say only fools rush in."_

Their earlier finesse on the dance floor gave way to merely standing in place, half-heartedly picking up the right foot and then the left, with their bodies pressed together. B'Elanna's eyes closed. She wasn't sure how much actual dancing there was supposed to be in a slow dance, but she was certain it was the best slow dance of her life.

"_But I can't help falling in love with you."_

When the song ended, the audience cheered, but she and Tom were now in their own universe. She looked up at him, and he down at her, and they kissed the kind of kiss that can only be shared after years of loving and fighting and working together and having sex and being friends and living in each other's space and knowing that the person on the receiving end of the kiss is the keeper of the other's soul.

An hour later, they left the holodeck with their arms around each other's waists.

"That was a great program," he told her.

"I'm glad you liked it. I had to do a lot of research to create it."

"You know the Beatles and Elvis never actually played together, right?"

B'Elanna shrugged mildly. "I asked the computer for culturally significant artists of the middle twentieth century rock and roll period." She felt a little punchy. "Of course, if historical accuracy is more important to you than my hard work…"

Tom squeezed her waist closer. "It was perfect. But next time warn me, so I can wear the Daddy-O shirt." As soon as the words were out, he felt the hand that was wrapped around his waist suddenly smack his side lightly before it returned to its position.

* * *

**Earth, Tel Aviv, Hayarkon Park**

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Harry Kim looked up to see his girlfriend Libby standing above him. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I am enjoying myself," he said sincerely. "And you haven't seen me because your Uncle Ben and your Aunt Mildred and your mother keep taking me to see old pictures of you as a child or the family antique furniture collection or the place where your great-grandfather lived."

"They like you, Harry," Libby said happily, settling in the grass beside him. "It's a good sign."

Harry held out his hand, and she placed hers in it, interlacing their fingers. In silence they looked out at the field in front of them, where a collection of Libby's younger cousins were playing a game with an anti-grav ball.

After a moment, Libby broke the silence. "The sun will be setting in a couple of hours. There's a great view of the sunset from the mountains further east. We can catch a transport if you want."

Harry nodded in the direction of the older adults. "Do you think they'll mind if we leave?"

"Oh, yes," Libby said, her eyes gleaming with delight, "there will be gossip for days. But we're adults. Let's go." She stood up and pulled Harry with her, and they walked as fast as they could away from the family reunion before anyone noticed and could summon them back.

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Deck Four**

The Torres-Parises turned a corner to see yet another stretch of corridor before them.

"Okay, enough," B'Elanna said, stopping in place. "I have designed five ships and analyzed specifications for at least three dozen. Why the hell can't I find our quarters?"

"They're this way," Tom said, pointing to where they came from. "We've already been down that way."

"I'm telling you, they're this way," she disagreed, pointing ahead. "That way is section twelve."

"Exactly," Tom said, "and our quarters are in section eight."

"Which means we need to keep going down this corridor."

"Ask the computer," Miral suggested.

They looked at each other with mild embarrassment. "Computer, show us the way to B'Elanna Torres's quarters," B'Elanna ordered the nearest computer panel as Tom picked up Miral.

"B'Elanna Torres's quarters are on deck four, section eight," said the computer, illuminating the path on the wall.

"Thank you," B'Elanna said cordially.

"Very good idea, munchkin," Tom said to their daughter.

A minute later, the doors to their new quarters opened, and all three fell silent as they stepped inside. Tom put Miral down, and she immediately ran to explore the other rooms.

B'Elanna spread her arms wide as she took in the expansive living area. "Can you believe this?"

"Are you sure we have the right place?" Tom stepped out in the corridor and let the door close on him. He reentered a moment later. "Our names are on the door," he confirmed.

Their quarters on Voyager had been intended for one person, not two – and certainly not three. On the starbase they'd at least had a separate bedroom for Miral, but it was still a tight squeeze. As B'Elanna surveyed the living area, she decided their new Enterprise quarters could serve as a shuttle hangar in a pinch.

"Hey, B'Elanna, what do you think about putting the television set here?" Tom called from a corner of the living area.

"Oh, great, still no doors," she called from the bedroom. "Who is the genius who designs crew quarters without doors on any of the bedrooms? I want to know what he was thinking."

Tom came up behind her. "Yeah, don't they know how hard it is for a chief engineer to concentrate while her bunkmate is watching cartoons?"

"It's not just your cartoons," she said seriously. "Miral's not a baby anymore. She needs her privacy. And so do we."

Tom poked his head around the bulkhead. He felt himself grinning appreciatively at the large bed in the center of the room. "You're right. We're going to need a door."

* * *

**Earth, East of Jerusalem**

Libby climbed the final meter and then took a seat on a rock protruding from the mountain. "See what I told you? Look at that sunset."

Harry sat down beside her and surveyed the view. There were buildings in the distance and a few shuttles in the air, but mostly it was just rocky terrain for a few kilometers in all directions. The sky above them was bright blue with a band of pink at eye level and orange at the horizon.

"It's so quiet here," he noted. He looked over at Libby, and his heart stirred a little. She was so easy to be around, and something about taking in sunsets with her made him appreciate her beauty even more.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," he admitted, stealing words she'd used not too long ago. "Your disappearance from my life. Your reappearance." He put an arm around her, breathing in her smell as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Is your family really going to talk about us while we're gone?"

"Absolutely."

"What are they going to say? Are they going to try to decide if I'm good enough for you?"

Libby smiled faintly. "Sometimes you're an idiot, Harry. My mother already decided that she approves, and that's why she invited you. Uncle Ben took you away from me today to show you that you're not here as an extension of me – as my boyfriend – but as your own member of the family."

"Really?"

Libby nodded. "And when they realize that we left, they'll all say that you, an upstanding Starfleet officer, were taken against your will and that I brought you here to ravage you." She clutched at his arms for effect and then kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't mind a little ravaging," Harry said good-naturedly, "but you did promise me a sunset first."

"Oh, Harry, if you're not careful, I'm going to be your ruin."

There was something a little too serious in her tone for his taste. He sighed involuntarily.

"What's the matter?" she asked, knowing instantly he was upset.

"Libby," he explained carefully, "I need to ask you to do something, and it's going to sound strange. My entire life, I worked so hard to be perfect, and everyone's always treated me like the good guy – like Ensign Eager – like someone upstanding." He paused for a moment, framing his next thought. "Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm not a real person. Or, at least, like people don't see me as one."

"And you want to ask me to keep in mind that you're not perfect?" she guessed. "Harry, you're not perfect. You're too uptight, and you have terrible taste in clothes, and you snore. And you think you're tough, but you're not at all. And sometimes you're just blind to what's happening around you." She smiled sweetly. "Is that better?"

"Libby…"

"I don't love you in spite of your shortcomings," she continued. "I love you because of them."

"I can't believe you tried to break up with me," he said quietly.

"Neither can I," she admitted.

They remained sitting on the mountain, with his arm around her, her head leaning on his shoulder, as the pink and orange bands in the sky were swallowed up by the blue, and then eventually everything around them was black with twinkling stars.

* * *

**Dokkara Prime, Archaeological Institute, Office of Professor Chakotay**

Chakotay was composing a paper about the dangerous effects of tachyon scans to the ancient ruins of Krylar 4 when he noticed he had an incoming transmission from Kathryn Janeway. Although he really needed to finish his work, he supposed he could take a break to chat with an old friend. He opened the communications link to her.

"Hello, Kathryn."

"Chakotay," she said with a hint of a smile on her lips. "What are you working on?"

"Actually, I'm writing a paper advocating the termination of tachyon scans in the Krylar system."

"When exactly did you become so resistant to technology?"

"I don't know," he answered seriously, "but I have a reputation now, and I have to protect it. What are you working on?"

"I'm trying to determine whether or not I should adopt one of Admiral Gromek's puppies."

"This is what occupies the greatest minds of the Federation? I hope nobody alerts the Romulans."

Kathryn laughed lightly. "Seeing your home made me realize that I have reclaimed the family farm, but I haven't really made it a home yet."

"The ancestral home?" he teased.

"I guess you could call it that. When are you going to visit it?"

"Kathryn, I don't know…it's quite a distance, and …"

"All right," she interrupted before he could really explain himself. "I can handle rejection, but I would prefer not to listen to your flimsy excuses." She shifted gears. "Have you heard any news from B'Elanna on the Enterprise?"

"She and Tom just officially boarded yesterday, and today Tom pulls them out of spacedock," he reported.

"You miss them already, don't you?" Kathryn said softly.

She was right. When they'd given him the news, his first response was to be glad for them. His second was to miss them. It had been wonderful having them so close during a period of adjustment in his life, and he wasn't quite sure what living on Dokkara would mean without friends nearby. "I'm adjusting to the idea," he admitted. "I'm going to miss playing with my niece."

"You know, Chakotay, what might help you adjust is a visit with an old friend."

He looked up at the screen. He couldn't quite tell why she was so insistent with the invitation. They had been talking almost daily since B'Elanna schemed to reunite them, but their conversations were always friendly, comfortable. Neither of them mentioned the kiss, and neither of them dared to push their relationship in that direction again. There was an unspoken agreement – one Kathryn now seemed to be breaking.

"Kathryn," he said in a tone of voice that beseeched her not to continue.

"Okay, I'm finished pressing the matter for now, but I would sincerely love to have you visit – any time you want. At least lie to me and say you'll consider it."

She looked so lovely as she teased him, pretending to be hurt by his rejection. Chakotay could feel his dimples showing as he smiled. "If you know I'm lying, what's the point?"

"Call it an old ruse for an old friend."

"There's nothing old about you," he protested. "All right, Kathryn, you win. I will consider visiting you on Earth."

"Are you lying?" she asked, eyes narrowing, trying to read him.

"I am not," he pledged. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. I should get back to work."


	9. Chapter 9

**USS Enterprise, Bridge**

B'Elanna stepped onto the bridge before the Enterprise departed from the starbase. She wanted to familiarize herself with its systems as much as possible before her first senior officers' meeting, especially after the embarrassment of getting lost on the way to her own quarters. She also wanted to watch Tom take the Federation's flagship out of dock.

She looked around and smiled when she saw her husband sitting at the helm, concentrating intently on the panel in front of him, and glanced around the expansive bridge. Although she had repaired and designed on many ships, she'd only actually served on two. And this one was nothing like either of them. It was solemn, quiet, the embodiment of decorum. She felt privileged to be among the ranks of the accomplished Enterprise crew, and she had to remind herself that this was now _her_ ship.

She wanted to say a quiet hello to him, but no one on the bridge was talking. On the Val Jean people didn't talk; they yelled as consoles exploded and alarms sounded. On Voyager Janeway and Chakotay had always chatted – though about what, Chakotay would never tell her. And she and Tom had exchanged wisecracks on many occasions. In fact, Tom had regularly kept the Voyager bridge entertained with his one-liners. She looked over at him now, his head down and brow furrowed. What could he possibly be concentrating on so deeply? Then B'Elanna realized: he was nervous.

"I'll be damned."

"Is there a problem, Commander Torres?"

She looked up at the security chief. "No, Commander." She finished her work and took another glance at Tom, hoping he'd find a buddy like Harry soon to help him lighten up. She stepped onto the turbolift and wondered if engineering would be more exciting.

Before she could set a foot into her new department, someone was in her face, greeting her. "Commander Torres, I'm Ensign Vktaca. Welcome to the Enterprise."

"As you were, Ensign." She wasn't used to officers standing at attention for her. The team at the starbase was just that – a team – and they respected her, but she was no figurehead to them.

"Commander," called a much friendlier voice, "I'm Lieutenant Powell, your assistant. Can I show you around?"

B'Elanna looked at the brown-haired human coming out of a service conduit, the man who had also been up for the job of chief engineer, but who was now welcoming her so politely. She'd been in this position before, on Voyager, when Chakotay had persuaded Janeway to pick her over Lieutenant Carey. Joe Carey had ended up being her greatest ally and supporter. If he had harbored any resentment over her appointment, it didn't show after the first five minutes, and for that B'Elanna had always respected and appreciated him. She saw something similar in Powell's eyes now as she sized him up.

Of course, he'd be no Vorik. The thought always made her a little wistful. She'd once hated the younger Vulcan for trying to bond with her during pon farr (though in hindsight she had to appreciate that it was the catalyst for her relationship with Tom). As an assistant, though, Vorik was top-notch: full of good ideas that he wasn't afraid to express, an indefatigable worker, always willing to take her criticisms and misdirected anger with a grain of salt. She was glad Tom had persuaded her to patch up their relationship; she and Vorik made a good team. No one on Starbase 174 compared to him in B'Elanna's eyes, and, she suspected, no one ever would.

She pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on more pressing matters. She was certain the Enterprise engineering crew would suffice, but there was a larger need at hand, one that was sitting several decks up on the bridge. As she followed Powell toward the warp core, he was explaining the duty roster, but she wasn't really listening. She was sizing him up. He may not have been another Vorik, but he was tall and friendly. There was a glint in his eyes that she knew indicated a good sense of humor. He seemed perfect. She started to cook up her plan.

* * *

**Earth, Tel Aviv, Residence of Ben and Mildred Goldberg**

The highlight of the family reunion was dinner at Uncle Ben and Aunt Mildred's, attended by various extensions of Libby's family. "Dinner" was perhaps an understatement for it, as the common room of their home had been turned into a veritable mess hall, with five tables and at least forty people dining together. Everyone was talking loudly and emphatically, and the carafes of wine (the real thing, not synthehol) were being drained with gusto. Harry loved the animation; it was so different from his own family's way of interacting.

"You know," Uncle Ben said, "for thousands of years, people have been going up and down the mountains in this part of Earth to look for answers. Ancient legends often told stories of men talking to the gods that way."

Harry listened, unsure of where Ben was going. From across the dinner table, Libby passed him a carafe of wine in order to make eye contact, to reassure him.

Ben continued to him in a conspiratorial whisper, so the others couldn't hear, "Did you find your answer on the mountain, Harry?" Harry looked at him, confused, until Ben clarified, "A ring, Harry! She needs a ring!"

"I don't know if we're ready for that, Ben," he said earnestly. "She's still thinking about what it means to be with a Starfleet officer."

Ben nodded solemnly. "Don't give her too much time to think about it."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Main Engineering**

B'Elanna logged off the console she'd been working at with satisfaction and looked up at Powell. "Lieutenant, I think it's time to review those crew reports and get out of here. Do you feel like getting a drink?"

Powell's face scrunched up. "Commander, I – uh – I'm sorry – I'm married," he said awkwardly.

B'Elanna resisted the urge to laugh. "So am I, Lieutenant, to the new helmsman. I actually wanted to introduce you to him. I think he could use a friend."

"Oh, in that case, sir, sure." Powell looked relieved.

"Don't call me 'sir,'" she instructed, leading him out of engineering.

"Ma'am," he corrected.

"Don't call me 'ma'am.'" She tapped her com badge as they waited for the turbolift. "Torres to Paris."

"Go ahead."

"Meet me for a drink when your shift is over, Lieutenant."

"On my way, sir," came Tom's reply.

* * *

**Dokkara Prime, Archaeological Institute, Lecture Hall**

Chakotay was mid-sentence when the dean came bursting into the lecture hall, his face red and slightly sweaty. "Class dismissed," he commanded the students as Chakotay watched with surprise.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?" he asked. He turned to the students. "Nobody's leaving. We still have forty minutes of class left."

The students half-stood, padds in hand, unsure of whose instructions to follow.

"I said this class is dismissed," Dean Danvers said again with authority. "Professor Chakotay, you and I need to have a conversation. Now."

This time the students responded quickly. They were out the door in under a minute, with only a few curious glances back to see what was going to happen to their professor. When the door closed behind the last of them, Danvers slammed a padd down on the lectern.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded. "Tachyon scans in the Krylar system? Did you give any consideration at all to this institution before publishing this?"

"What?"

"Feldman and his entire wing have been working in the Krylar system for the last five years," Danvers barked. "They received a special research initiative prize from the Federation Council. And now you publish this drivel just discounting their entire project? How could you do that to your own colleague?"

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said evenly. "It was my understanding that we have academic freedom here."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that I'm free to write and publish what I think, based on my research and my principles. Feldman's learned a lot about Krylar, and I appreciate that. But he chooses to disregard the data collected by the stellar scientists in that sector. It is a fact that the tachyon scans are destabilizing the surrounding space and, consequently, the very ruins he's trying to study."

"The tachyon scans are the reason we found those ruins in the first place," Danvers argued. "If you want to debate subspace stability, you're in the wrong field. Your job here is to talk about arrowheads and talismans, you get me? And if you ever publish something that threatens this institution's work again, you will not have a job here."

Danvers turned on a heel and deserted the lecture hall, leaving Chakotay gaping after him.

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge**

"And then the deflector grid went down, but we punched through a hole in his shields –"

"Oh, no, did you lose inertial dampers?"

"No, no, we switched to manual–"

"And you used the Freda maneuver?"

"Yes!" They laughed.

B'Elanna had been listening to Tom and Powell try to top each other in we-almost-crashed-the-ship stories for a half an hour, and she was growing bored. Meanwhile, the stack of padds with crew reports hadn't been touched. She wanted to know how many people she had, what they had been working on, and what the most pressing concerns were – but clearly Powell wasn't going to be any help to her tonight.

Tom squeezed her thigh under the table as he listened to Powell talk about depolarizing the tritanium hull on a series two runabout. It was his way of telling her that, even though he wasn't paying attention to her, he hadn't forgotten she was there. He knew he and Powell were being rude, but there was something inherently likeable about Powell. He pictured them on the holodeck together, battling a two-hundred-foot dinosaur as it rampaged through Tokyo.

"Listen, Commander, Lieutenant–"

"Tom," Paris corrected him.

"Tom, this has been fun, but I try to talk to my wife Margaret and the boys every night at 1800." Powell set down his drink. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, definitely." After Powell left, Tom turned to B'Elanna and saw the expression on her face. "So you didn't get through those crew reports."

"You noticed." She collected the padds and rose. "I'm just glad you made a friend. Let's go see how Miral's first day went." She foisted the stack of padds into Tom's hands.

"Do I have to carry these?" he whined as he followed her out.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

Her console was blinking, indicating that there was someone trying to com her, and Janeway wondered what bit of discretion had prevented her assistant from interrupting the meeting to alert her. She tried to refocus her attention on the two admirals seated across the table.

"You're the one who's been supervising the lab for six years, Owen," she said. "I think you probably have a better idea than any of us how to redirect the project."

Owen Paris smiled at his once protégée. "Nonetheless, Kathryn, since several of the team there seem devoted to you, we think you're the person to take charge." He cleared his throat slightly. "I wouldn't want the word to get around, but I am trying to get a few things off my plate these days."

"Don't tell me you're thinking about retirement," Admiral Hendricks said with disbelief.

"Not retirement, per se," Paris admitted. "Just clearing up a little free time to spend with my wife and the grandchildren."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate it," Janeway said amicably. "In that case I'm happy to have Pathfinder under my command. Reg Barclay talks my ear off about it enough, anyway." Her eyes flitted again to the console, and this time her colleagues noticed.

"Something interesting on that computer, Kathryn?" Hendricks teased. "Or are we just boring you?"

"I'm sorry, I have an incoming transmission, but I'm not sure who it's from," she replied, feeling a slight blush in her cheeks at having been caught by the men who had once been her mentors.

Hendricks stood up to leave. "We're finished here, anyway. Owen, you'll get Kathryn all the records on Pathfinder's recent research?"

"Of course," Paris replied, also rising. "I'll have Nicole get it to you by the end of the week." They headed for the door. "Give Professor Chakotay my regards, Kathryn," he called cheekily over his shoulder as he exited.

The blush grew as she activated the monitor. "Hi, sorry for the wait."

"You look like you've been caught red-handed," Chakotay commented.

"I have," she explained, "by Owen Paris. I wonder who told him about us?"

"Don't look at me," Chakotay quipped. "I know there's nothing about us to tell."

"That never stopped rumors before, Chakotay," she reminded him, smiling sweetly at the screen. They had grown much more flirtatious with each other, yet neither of them was willing to take the first step toward anything more. It felt somehow silly to her to think about having a relationship with someone light-years away and ten years in the past. But in the meantime, she valued their almost daily communication. "I got the dog."

"Good. It's good for you to have some company."

"Are you implying that I'm lonely?"

"I wouldn't dream of implying that," Chakotay said saucily. "I don't know what kind of company you keep when I'm not talking to you."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "May I remind you that you are talking to a Starfleet admiral? Anyway, I've just been put in charge of Pathfinder. The only company I'll be keeping is Reg Barclay."

"Come to think of it," he said with an emphatic raise of his eyebrows, "I don't want to know what happens when I'm not around."

_Me and Reg?_ she thought with some mild distaste. What was Chakotay up to? She could have continued the game of cat-and-mouse but decided to call him onto the carpet instead. "You seem especially audacious today."

Chakotay smiled. "Maybe it's the weather."

"Stay indoors," she ordered, narrowing her eyes.

* * *

**Residence of Lieutenant Harry Kim**

Libby placed a row of delicate kisses across his chest. "Harry, if that's what listening to your clarinet recital gets, I will attend once a week," she said, her voice drowsy with contentment.

"I don't have a recital once a week. You'll have to wait for once a year."

"Wait once a year to hear the clarinet or have good sex?"

"Very funny." Harry tumbled with her in the bed so that he was on top of her and took advantage of his superior position to tickle her just below the ribs. Libby shrieked and writhed uncontrollably, but he held her firmly in place. "Say you like the clarinet," he taunted, watching her face contort as he tickled her again.

"I like the clarinet," she conceded.

Satisfied, Harry released his grip and Libby slid out from under him, crying, "I don't like the clarinet!" She darted across the room, throwing any pillows and blankets she could find as roadblocks while Harry chased after her.

He caught her behind a support beam and pinned her against it. "Surrender!"

"Okay, okay, truce," Libby said, panting heavily. She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Truce?"

Harry nodded, also catching his breath. "Truce." Libby tried to move away, and he grabbed her, but this time he held her tightly and kissed her – no tickling. Then he looked at her and saw that she was still laughing and said suddenly, "I want you to marry me."

The question caught her off-guard, and she sobered immediately. "Oh my god, what?" She looked into his eyes. "You're serious."

"I know we haven't been back together for a very long time," Harry said slowly, realizing that he was indeed serious and that this was going to be a moment that, one way or another, he'd remember for the rest of his life. "But we've known each other for years. You know everything about me. I love you, and I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and so I don't see why we should have to wait. Will you marry me?"

Libby's mouth was open slightly with surprise, but he could see in her eyes that she was moved. "Yes, Harry, yes."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Office of the Executive Officer**

"I know it's a bit early in my assignment to request shore leave," Tom admitted Commander Rainier.

"A bit early? It's your first week on duty. This has to set some kind of record." At least Rainier was smiling.

"Well," Tom explained, "it's my best friend's wedding, and I know he really wants me to be there – _I_ really want to be there – and since we're scheduled to be in that sector, the timing seemed…" He decided to borrow from the captain. "Fortuitous."

"You know our scheduled missions could get preempted at any time, right? There's no guarantee we'll actually be in the vicinity of Earth in seven months. It's a long ways off." Tom nodded. "What about Commander Torres?"

"She's also good friends with the guy who's getting married. You see, we all served together on Voyager, and, well, after that long lost in space together, it's really more like my kid brother's wedding."

"Voyager?" the first officer echoed. "I see. Any other noted figures going to be in attendance at this wedding?"

Tom smiled. "Admiral Janeway, no doubt, and one rather pushy mother of the groom."

Rainier laughed. "Well, we're not scheduled to be in orbit around Earth, but you can pilot your own shuttle, right?" He didn't wait for Tom to answer what they both knew was an obvious question. "If I give you two weeks of shore leave, will that be sufficient?"

"That would be more than sufficient," Tom said honestly.

"That would use up shore leave for the next year," Rainier warned, "for both of you."

"We're not really shore leave people." _Where would we go?_ he wondered. _We've never even taken shore leave before._ _And, anyway, our fun has always been on the holodeck. _The Enterprise had three times the holodeck capacity as the starbase; Tom was certain they wouldn't need shore leave again for the next year.

"All right, Lieutenant, let me look this over. Dismissed."

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"Our little Harry is growing up," B'Elanna said fondly as she looked at the image of Chakotay on the screen in front of her. "I can't believe it."

"Mommy, what is Harry doing?" Miral asked from the floor below her.

"Uncle Harry is getting married," B'Elanna explained. She turned back to the monitor. "So how about it, Chakotay? Will you try to come to the wedding?"

"Sure," he replied eagerly. "I haven't been to Earth in three years. I'd like to see Kathryn's house, too. She keeps urging me to visit." Before B'Elanna could even open her mouth to speak, he added quickly, "Don't say anything or I'll rip out your tongue and wear it as a belt."

"I thought you were a nonviolent person. Where did you learn to make threats like that?"

Chakotay grinned, revealing his dimples. "From you. When's this wedding happening anyway?"

"Not for seven months. Something about finishing a new sensor upgrade. Leave it to Harry to schedule his wedding around his work."

"Well, it gives us all time to get there. Miral, I guess the next time I see you, you'll be three years old?"

"My birthday is in two months and six days," she said firmly.

Chakotay and B'Elanna smiled at each other. "Well, don't tell Harry I told you," B'Elanna said finally. "I'm sure he wants to tell you himself."

Chakotay laughed at the idea. "B'Elanna, since when have any of you ever been able to keep a secret?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Earth, Venice, Piazza San Marco, Ristorante Mezza Luna**

"So, we actually had to forge an alliance with the Borg, but it all worked out," Harry Kim finished. The report on Voyager's first encounter with Species 8472 had recently become declassified, and it was gaining some interest from civilians who wanted to know more about the race that defeated even the unstoppable Borg. The trouble was, Harry was a little tired of telling the story.

Libby's Uncle Ben shuddered a little. "Just the name 'Borg' gives me the chills. I don't know how you were able to face them."

"Actually, I lived with two of them. Well, they were severed from the collective, but they still had Borg implants. One of them became an honorary senior officer."

"I would worry about getting assimilated in my sleep."

Harry smiled politely. Sometimes civilians didn't fully understand life in Starfleet. He often noted that to them it was a game of heroes and villains, not the real universe of ambiguity that he'd so often faced. "I'll admit that it took awhile for some of us to be able to trust her – Seven was her name – but she was no threat. She really tried to embrace becoming human again." His voice dropped a little. "She actually just died a little while ago."

"I'm sorry." Ben took a bite of his dinner before continuing. "You and she?"

"No, no," Harry assured him. "We were just friends." He nearly narrated the whole story – how Seven had proposed copulating with him in the mess hall, how she'd eventually become Annika and had gone away with Chakotay, only to leave him – but it seemed too operatic and long for this dinner. "Anyway, let's talk about something a little happier."

The old man's face perked up a bit. "Good idea. Let's talk about Libby."

"My favorite subject," Harry said with a smile.

Ben put a hand on Harry's forearm, and for a half-second Harry thought it was Janeway doing so. "Harry, Libby doesn't have a father."

"I know."

"I have several children, Harry, all of whom give me great pain and great joy. But Libby is very special, and I love her dearly."

"That's very clear, Ben," Harry told him. "She loves you just as much."

"In some ways she's like my own little girl. My sister likes me to look out for her. And that means," Ben said, leaning toward Harry menacingly, "that I have to protect her from anyone or anything that might try to hurt her. Including you."

"I understand completely. Please know that I feel the same way."

Ben peered into Harry's dark eyes for a moment, and Harry was unsure of what was going to happen. Then suddenly Ben smiled and was the same eccentric man he had met in Tel Aviv. "I like you, Harry Kim!" he boomed. He resumed eating.

"I like you, too," Harry said a little uncertainly.

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

"I guess I'm going to take you up on that offer to visit," Chakotay said grimly.

Kathryn smiled at the monitor, not paying attention to his demeanor. "You must have heard about Harry's wedding. Can you believe it? Harry Kim getting married…"

"I'll be there for the wedding," Chakotay said, "but I was actually thinking of visiting a little sooner."

"Oh? How soon?"

"Immediately."

Kathryn's eyebrows knitted together as she frowned. "Did something happen? You seem on edge."

Chakotay sighed and tugged slightly on his left earlobe, which she knew meant something was bothering him. "You could say that," he said, his voice still tense. "I just lost my job."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge**

As Tom Paris ate his replicated lunch alone, he couldn't help overhearing the snippets of conversation taking place two tables away.

"…_.was in a penal colony…"_

"…_.married…only reason they got the post…"_

He was instantly transported back to a time in his life when he was more accustomed to being the source of gossip. It hadn't happened to him in a number of years, and he really didn't want to begin his tour of duty on the Enterprise that way.

He and B'Elanna had spent three years in relative peace on Starbase 174, away from the fanfare of Voyager's return and the speculation about Janeway's crew that came with it. They had talked about leaving Starfleet, as had most of their former shipmates. The time in deep space had been too long, and they had a baby and were ready for the next chapter of their lives. But Starfleet gave them purpose, and it had given them each other, and once he had been reinstated and B'Elanna had passed her academy equivalency exams, things were fine. They headed off to the starbase to work on the integration of technology they'd brought back from the Delta Quadrant, and because of the nature of their mission, no one had really thought to challenge their abilities.

Tom knew the last ten years of B'Elanna's life had been about redemption, much as they had been for him. He finally felt redeemed. He was a loyal and loving husband and father. He had a good job that he loved, and he was good to his friends. Time away in the Delta Quadrant had given him a chance to recreate himself into someone he actually liked.

Now Tom was where he had been ten years ago in Voyager's mess hall, listening to his crewmates spread misinformation about all the things he'd done wrong in his life. Ten years ago, he had accepted it as penance for his mistakes. Now, however, he had no desire to listen any further. He left his half-eaten food and strode out of the lounge.

* * *

**Earth, South Carolina, Residence of John and Mary Kim**

"Beautiful girl," Harry's mother cooed, holding her hands to Libby's face and kissing her heartily on the cheek. "My daughter."

"Not yet," Harry reminded her.

"We're still several months away from that, Mrs. Kim," Libby added, trying to politely extract herself.

"You will be soon. Sit down," she ordered, pointing to her dining table.

"Mom, Libby has to –"

"Libby nothing. Sit down," she ordered again. "I made your favorite, Harry. Apple pie."

"That sounds really nice, Mrs. Kim," Libby said, "but I have to go –"

"I'll be right back," the old woman interrupted.

Harry and Libby looked at each other, mentally shrugging, and decided to sit down. "Harry," Libby whispered, "I have to go to work."

"I know, but I think she'll erect a force field if you try to leave."

"I can't be late for work!"

"Work?" Harry's mother set a freshly baked apple pie on the table in front of them. "You don't need to work. What you need to concentrate on is having my grandchildren."

Harry nearly died of embarrassment. "Mo-om!" he cried, aware he sounded like a teenager.

She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "How soon do you think you'll have children?"

"You know what, Mom?" Harry said, rising from the table. "Libby and I will have grandchildren as soon as you move to San Francisco."

Mary Kim looked at Libby and frowned. "He's always trying to get me to move," she explained.

Libby smiled, slightly in terror. The last thing she could imagine was having the woman live closer to her. "I really have to go to work, Mrs. Kim."

"Okay, okay. Let me wrap up a piece of pie for you."

"That would be nice," Libby said graciously. Mary headed into the kitchen with the pie. "Move closer?" she whispered to Harry. "Are you crazy?"

"I know she'll never agree to it," Harry whispered. "It always gets me off the hook for whatever she wants from me."

Mary returned and handed Libby a small container. "I love you," she said, kissing Libby on the cheek again. Then she pinched the cheek between her thumb and forefinger. Even though Libby was smiling, it was obvious she was in emotional and physical distress. "Get out of here, go to work," Mary ordered, shooing Libby out the door.

_Well_, Harry thought as he watched her leave, _that could have gone worse_.

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

"What do you mean you just lost your job?" Kathryn asked with concern.

"You know my reputation for non-technological methods?" She nodded. "It seems it doesn't extend to any projects backed by the Federation Council."

"The Federation Council pressured the school into firing you?"

"No, they didn't have a chance. The dean of the faculty was too eager to get rid of me. We've always clashed."

"It seems incredibly short-sighted on his part," Kathryn said. "You're really starting to make a name for yourself."

"He doesn't care. Professor Feldman brings in more political attention, and I stepped on Feldman's toes. The dean warned me to back off, and I didn't."

Kathryn sighed, considering this for a moment. Chakotay was no longer the hotheaded rebel she'd first met by any means, but he was still strong-willed, especially if he felt he had a worthy cause to advocate. Destruction of a planetoid at the hands of technology certainly seemed a worthy cause for her, too. "Maybe I can talk to someone in stellar sciences," she suggested. "If Starfleet can put pressure on the university to acknowledge the damage the tachyons are doing, maybe they'll realize you were right and reinstate you."

Chakotay shook his head sadly. "You're always bailing me out of trouble," he said. "Not this time."

That frustrated Kathryn. She understood he just wanted a shoulder to lean on, not a rescue attempt, but it made her feel helpless to be relegated to confessor. She preferred using her influence to help her people. But Chakotay was a man of pride, who liked to fix his own messes. "What are you going to do?"

"There's a position in Brazil I've applied for. They'd like to interview me and give me a tour of the facilities."

"And that's why you want to come visit," she said knowingly. She gave him a crooked smile. "And here I thought it had something to do with me."

"It does." His eyes locked with hers, and she tried to turn away but found she couldn't. Something about the intensity of his voice and his gaze made her feel a little unsteady.

"Chakotay…"

"Don't say anything," he urged. "Just offer me a place to stay when I get there."

Kathryn nodded, but she was struck with fear at the realization that everything between them – everything in her life – was about to change.

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge**

Tom didn't tell B'Elanna about what had happened. He knew it would only upset her. But it was a mistake, he realized too late. They had taken Miral to eat dinner when it happened again. Only this time, to Tom's chagrin, B'Elanna overheard. She looked at him, and her eyes said everything.

"Don't," he said quietly.

"_How can Klees even let her on board, much less make her chief?"_

"…_no Geordi LaForge…"_

"_Weren't they all arrested?"_

B'Elanna growled slightly.

"B'Elanna, let it go," Tom implored. "You're a senior officer. It's not worth it." He handed Miral a piece of Ktarian cake. "Eat up, munchkin."

"…_.served with Klingons before….really difficult to get along with…"_

"…_wonder if the daughter's the same way…."_

At the mention of her child, B'Elanna lost control. She slammed a fist into the table, and heads around the room swiveled to look at them. Then she marched over to the table of gossips.

"If you have something to say, crewmen, you can say it to my face," she challenged, arms crossed defensively across her chest.

"Is that an order?" a young human female challenged back.

"Yes."

"I don't take orders from people who aren't real officers."

Tom swooped in to intervene at that moment before B'Elanna had the chance to think about whether or not she wanted to jeopardize being a real officer. He grabbed her elbows and steered her back to their table. She was fuming, and, he knew, humiliated.

The three ensigns sauntered smugly out of the lounge, and conversation slowly returned to normal at the other tables around the room.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Libby Lipschitz**

"Megan Delaney? You have got to be kidding me!" Libby shouted. She started pacing up and down the living room floor. "Absolutely not!"

"Why not?" Harry asked seriously.

"I am not inviting your old girlfriend, the playmate of the Delta Quadrant, to my wedding! Forget it!"

"First of all, she was not the playmate of the Delta Quadrant," he yelled back, "and second of all, she is not my old girlfriend!" Harry felt himself growing angry. He rarely got angry. Annoyed, disappointed, sad, but rarely genuinely angry. And now the person who was supposed to be making him the happiest was beginning to make his blood boil.

They had had the same fight for the last three days, just about different people. One of them would propose someone for the guest list, and the other would raise a big ruckus. It was getting old.

"This is ridiculous, Harry!"

"Stop being so difficult!"

"I'm not the one who's being difficult!"

"How can I be difficult?" he asked. "You won't even let me talk! This is the dumbest fight I've ever had!"

"Oh, go to hell!" she said scathingly. She headed toward the door, but Harry moved to intercept her. "Get your hands off me!"

Harry removed his hands from her waist but didn't move out of her way. "Let's just stop shouting at each other," he suggested.

"You're right," Libby said, moving back to the living room. She rubbed her forehead. "Harry, I don't think I can compete with the ghosts of Voyager past."

"Nobody's asking you to."

"I'm going to take a walk," she said, collecting her cool. "I need some fresh air." She moved past him, and this time he didn't try to stop her.

Harry sighed. He went over to the computer and composed a message: "Alexander Graham Bell. Urgent."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

They didn't talk about what had happened at dinner. They all went to bed – Miral first, and then Tom and B'Elanna, wordlessly changing into pajamas. Tom was emotionally exhausted, but he was wide awake. B'Elanna, who was still getting to know her ship, had probably crawled through every Jeffries tube possible (schematics, of course, not providing her with enough detail), but all Tom had done was sit in a chair and punch a few buttons on a console.

He suspected she'd get into bed and call for the lights to dim, peck him on the cheek, and then turn her back to him. She often did that when she was angry or just tired. But this night, however, she needed his reassurance. She called for the lights out and then pressed her warm body up against his, kissing him far more deeply than a peck. Tom put his arms around her, happy to be offering her some comfort.

An hour later he was still awake. He slid carefully out from her arm across his chest and climbed out of bed. He crept into the living room to see if they had any new messages.

There were several wishing them well aboard the ship – from the ship's counselor, from the jazz ensemble (also asking if either of them wanted to join?), and from his father. And a message from Harry. Tom pulled up Harry's message and read: "Alexander Graham Bell. Urgent."

He knew immediately what it meant, but he wasn't going to talk to Harry without his pajamas. He stealthily crept back into the bedroom and found them in a puddle on the floor. As he threw them on, B'Elanna stirred slightly. "I draw the line at leaving bed to tell Harry what you just did in it," she teased sleepily.

Tom smiled. "How'd you know it was Harry?"

"Who else would you be getting out of bed for in the middle of the night?" she asked, opening her eyes and sitting up slightly.

"He sent an Alexander Graham Bell urgent."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's an emergency. Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon."

He returned to the living room and commed Harry, who was sitting in his own living room, pajama-clad.

"It took you long enough," Harry griped.

"Sorry. I had some problems of my own today. What's the emergency?"

"I don't know if I can marry Libby."

The news surprised Tom. "What happened?"

"We've been fighting nonstop about who to invite to the wedding. I've never seen her like this before, and I've never seen myself like this before. I was in a rage earlier today."

"Harry, everybody fights about who to invite to their wedding," Tom told him. "That's nothing to worry about. It's practically a tradition."

"Did you?" Harry asked pointedly, knowing that Tom's impromptu marriage on Voyager had not necessitated a guest list, much less a quarrel over it.

"Come on, Harry, couples fight."

"Libby and I aren't like you and B'Elanna," Harry explained. "We don't fight. That kind of antagonism isn't part of our relationship."

Tom hadn't really expected that it was. "Okay, but it's not always going to be perfect, Harry. That's what makes marriage. Sometimes it's not fun, and sometimes it's downright ugly."

"It's downright ugly to be married to B'Elanna?"

"No," Tom said frankly, "but she finds it downright ugly to be married to me sometimes. Look, the point is that you still want to make a life together, even if it's not always great. Do you still want to make a life with Libby?" Harry didn't answer for a moment. "Think carefully, Har. Imagine your life without her." Tom gave his friend a moment. "Do you want to have a life with her?" he repeated.

"Of course."

"Then go apologize to her for whatever you did."

"I invited the Delaneys."

Tom winced at the news. "Well, uninvite them."

"That's rude. And anyway, I don't want her to think she won. She should trust me."

"Look, Harry, at the end of the day, what's more important, having the Delaneys at your wedding, or having Libby there?"

Harry smiled. "You're right, as always. What's going on with you? You said you had a rough day."

"Yeah, I don't know if I should talk about it or not," he admitted. "B'Elanna and I haven't really talked about it yet."

"Are you two fighting?"

Tom nearly laughed out loud. Once upon a time Harry had asked him that question nearly every day, and back then it had been true. Their bouts were the stuff of legends on Voyager, until they got married. These days, however, they were a team. They disagreed often – and loudly – but they did not fight. Tom had learned from being intimate with the same person for so many years that the difference was the end result: disagreements led to discussions and compromises, and both parties were happy; fighting led to hurting each other. Tom preferred the former.

"No, we're not fighting," he told Harry. "We've had some troubles with junior officers talking about us – about our pasts. B'Elanna nearly hit one of them today in the lounge."

"You must have it expected it to happen, though, right?"

"I did, but, Harry, B'Elanna has worked so hard for this position. I hate the thought of anyone judging her by anything other than her Starfleet service record – which, I might point out, is letter-perfect."

Harry could have pointed out that that wasn't exactly true. B'Elanna had clashed with Janeway at least once and gone on report at least once, and he knew she'd had a few encounters with her previous commanding officer, but he wasn't going to argue with his friend about his image of his wife. It was sweet.

"What does Captain Klees think?"

"I don't know," Tom told him. "He knew who we were when we got this assignment. It's not a surprise to him that we have pasts."

"You want to know what I think? I don't think it has anything to do with you being arrested or B'Elanna being in the Maquis. It's the flagship. People are going to be jealous. If you had both graduated with honors and worked your way up on other ships for the last ten years, they'd still talk about you."

Tom looked at the image of his friend on screen and realized that Harry Kim was becoming a grown-up. "When did you get so wise?"

Harry laughed. "Some time after I met Uncle Ben, maybe."

"Uncle Ben?"

"Libby's uncle."

Tom's eyes caught the chronometer, and he realized he'd need sleep if he wanted to stay awake on the tomblike bridge in the morning. "Hey, Harry, I should go. Have a good night, and thanks for the advice."

"I'm happy to be the one to give advice sometimes," Harry said. "And thanks for yours."


	11. Chapter 11

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Communications Research Center, Pathfinder Project**

Kathryn Janeway placed her hands on the railing of Pathfinder's upper level as she surveyed the room below. It was a small but well-equipped lab, with new technologies in long-range communications research being developed daily, and it now fell under her supervision.

Lieutenant Commander Reginald Barclay was at her side, beaming with pride as he looked down on the lab that he had helped to create. He spent more time here (well, in the adjacent holodeck, anyway) than he did his own home, and many of his most monumental achievements in his less-than-perfect Starfleet career had happened here. Pathfinder was, for Reg, a beacon of hope, both for the once-lost Voyager and for him.

"The reports Admiral Paris sent you don't really do the lab justice," he explained as he led her down the stairs and into Pathfinder's depths. "Total crew of thirty-five, seven subspace transmitters attached to this lab alone, the ability to interface with over forty-seven different subspace relay stations, and four communications specialists whose entire duty is to increase the speed of those signals. Admiral," he said with aplomb, "we can send and receive messages in hours that once took days, if not weeks."

"It's impressive, Reg," Janeway agreed. As she looked around at her new charge, she didn't feel the way she had expected to. All the work and equipment and personnel that lie before her had been put there just to help Voyager get home. It was touching, but it was also a little pathetic. It was her fault Voyager had gotten away from home in the first place, and now, as she looked around Pathfinder, Janeway felt a sense of shame that Starfleet had had to go to so much trouble because of her mistake.

"I know what you're thinking, Admiral," Reg said as they loitered around the control matrix that interfaced with the MIDAS Array. "You're thinking that maybe we could divert these resources into more relevant projects, but I assure you that Starfleet has a need for long-range communications research. Ships continue to explore deeper and deeper reaches of the galaxy, and soon one end of the Federation won't be able to talk to the other in a single lifetime. We have to continue our work here," he finished, emphatically hitting his fist into his palm to make his point.

Janeway looked at him, raising an eyebrow slightly at his misinterpretation of her mood and his preoccupation with his own soapbox. "Relax, Reg, no one's talking about terminating Pathfinder. We're just trying to determine the best way to redirect the research."

"Oh, well in that case –"

"Would you mind if I had a seat in your office?" she interrupted. She rubbed her temple slightly. "I think I'm getting a headache."

"Of course, it's this way." Reg took her to the office he had recently assumed, after his predecessor Commander Harkins had been promoted, and Janeway made herself comfortable in his chair.

"I think I'll review these specifications again," she said, holding up a padd that had been delivered to her a day before. "Give me a few minutes, will you?"

"Certainly, Admiral," Barclay said congenially, "take your time." He excused himself, and the door slid closed behind him.

Janeway tossed the padd onto the desk and let her head rest her hands. It was all too much for her to process. She screwed up, cost over one hundred forty people seven years (and more than a few their very lives), cost Starfleet significant resources to try to get them back, and for a punishment she got a promotion to admiral. It had never made sense to her, but she had tried to accept her new role with grace. Now, though, she was being asked to oversee the very lab that once charged itself with getting her home. Maybe in his own twisted way, she wondered, Owen Paris was trying to punish her, forcing her to confront her decision to strand Voyager every day that she entered Pathfinder.

_Nah. That's not his style. Besides, he wouldn't have gotten that granddaughter of his if we hadn't been in the Delta Quadrant for seven years._

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting like that, head slumped and elbows propped up on the desk, when the door opened and Reg Barclay reentered. He apologized for his intrusion and stepped aside, revealing none other than Voyager's EMH.

"Reg said you weren't feeling well, Admiral," the Doctor said kindly as he came forward with a tricorder. "You don't look well either, if I may say so."

"You may not," she directed, lifting her head out of her hands as he scanned her.

"You're a little dehydrated," the Doctor declared, snapping the tricorder closed. "How many cups of coffee have you had today?"

"Four," Janeway admitted.

"Reg, would you get the admiral a glass of water, please?" the Doctor asked. Reg nodded and left them alone. The Doctor squatted, facing her, so that they were eye to eye. "Admiral, why do I suspect there's more bothering you than a headache?"

"I didn't ask him to call you."

"He was concerned. So am I."

Janeway sighed. The same damn crew she'd stranded were nothing if unflaggingly loyal to her. It was unnerving. Why couldn't they just resent her? Tell her she'd made more than a few bad calls during her tenure as their captain? It would be a lot easier than being faced with their friendship every day.

Then again, it would mean losing her family.

"I'm just a little overwhelmed by the wealth of resources that were dedicated to getting us home," she finally admitted. "I've visited here before, but now, overseeing it, it really sinks in how much Starfleet did to try to get us back."

The Doctor made his trademark sympathetic face, one he'd managed to cultivate in spite of being programmed with a crusty bedside manner. "No more than you yourself were doing on Voyager."

"That's very kind of you, Doctor." She patted his arm. "I suppose it seems foolish to be battling these demons ten years after the fact."

"Not at all. But if I can remind you of one thing, Admiral, it's that I wouldn't even be here if it hadn't been for you."

"Didn't you say the same thing to Lewis Zimmerman?"

The Doctor smiled. "Most humanoids have two parents, don't they?"

**_Starfleet Headquarters, Board of Inquiry, 2378_**

"_I don't know how I can make it any clearer to you," Captain Janeway said in a gravelly voice. "The Doctor is a trusted, valued member of my crew. He is our friend. He is a godfather to one of the children on the ship." She spoke more slowly now, punctuating every single word to demonstrate her seriousness as she stabbed the table with her index finger. "He will not be reprogrammed." She looked around the panel, forcing them to make eye contact with her. "Half of the crew will resign if that happens, and the other half will start a riot."_

"_And where will you be, Captain?" Admiral Halsey asked with evident sarcasm._

"_I'll be on every com channel I can get access to, telling the citizens of the Federation that a one of their own was executed at the hands of Starfleet." Janeway took her seat then, not waiting for them to declare her testimony concluded._

_The Doctor sat immobile, a look of utter surprise and gratitude on his face. He had expected the captain to defend him as promised, but he had not expected her to do with quite so much zeal. "Captain," he whispered to her, "you're risking your career."_

"_Doctor," she reminded him, "a crew can't accomplish anything if its members aren't loyal to each other."_

_That was all she would say. When he tried again to talk to her at the lunch break, she waved him off, claiming to have work to do. Reg, Zimmerman, Seven – she didn't want to hear their words of thanks or their questions. Kathryn Janeway had done what she thought needed to be done, and she was ready to take whatever consequences came with that decision. _

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Observation Lounge**

"Very good," Captain Klees said, looking around the table at the assembled senior officers. "Anything else?" When no one answered for a moment, Commander Rainier dismissed them. As they began to file out, Klees called for B'Elanna Torres to remain behind.

_Great, called onto the carpet already._

"Actually," the captain said once they were alone, "I'd like to speak to Lieutenant Paris as well." He nodded at her, meaning that she should be the one to summon him.

B'Elanna was still adjusting to Klees, who was unlike any previous commanding officer she'd had. He was in many respects a very warm person, easy to talk to. He just really liked having his officers do things for him in ways that neither Chakotay nor Janeway would ever permit.

She tapped her com badge compliantly. "Torres to Paris. Lieutenant, please report to the observation lounge."

A moment later the doors hissed open, and Tom stepped in from the bridge with a faintly puzzled look on his face. Captain Klees gestured for them both to sit down at the table near him.

"Nasty little fallout in the lounge last night," he began. He sensed their surprise. "I may not socialize much with the crew, but that doesn't mean I don't know what goes on."

Tom and B'Elanna looked at each other, unsure of the captain's intentions.

"I wanted to apologize to both of you on behalf of the ship. Commander Rainier has already taken disciplinary action against the three ensigns involved."

"Thank you, Captain," B'Elanna said with surprise. "That's really very supportive of you."

"Commander Torres, I knew who you were when I gave you this post. You had to pass the same exams from Starfleet Academy that all the other officers did. As far as I'm concerned, your service record – in the last three years, anyway – is no different than that of any other officer." Klees shifted focus to Tom. "I knew your past, too, Mr. Paris, even though the official records were expunged. It would seem from what Commander Rainier reports that plenty of other people on this ship do as well."

"Except my daughter," Tom said quietly.

"Lieutenant, I think everyone is entitled to one very big mistake in their lives, don't you? I made one once, and I lived with the consequences for years. I probably wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't had a little help along the way." He studied Tom. "Perhaps as Admiral Janeway has done for you. Although you've only been here a short time, I see no reason as yet to doubt that you are well-suited to this position. You're a little quiet on the bridge, though," Klees said with a sudden smile. "Seem a little afraid of talking to the ops officer during your shift."

Tom wasn't quite sure how to respond, but it didn't matter. Klees tapped the computer monitor in front of him, signaling that he was finished with their conversation. "As I said, I'm sorry for what happened. Please keep Commander Rainier informed if you have any future problems. Dismissed."

As they exited the briefing room, they looked at each other, silently acknowledging they would talk more about it later, and went their separate ways.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Libby Lipschitz**

"Okay, let's try this again," Libby said, picking up the data padd that was lying noxiously on the table in front of them. She reached for it as if it might at any second send a plasma discharge into her hand. She activated it. "Here are my friends and family," she said, calling up the list.

Harry took the padd from her and scrolled through the names. "Josh Wendelson?" he asked incredulously.

They had had three separate fights about Josh Wendelson in the last week – the most vicious had led to them both crossing the line, discussing Libby's sexual encounters with him. That particular fight had led to them sleeping separately for three nights, and the subject of whether or not Josh should be invited to their wedding had never been resolved.

"Harry, I've thought about it, and I know you don't want me to invite him, but there is nothing between us anymore. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say, 'If there's nothing between you anymore, why invite him?' Because he is my friend, and I do want him to be there. To watch me get married. To you."

Harry nodded his head slowly as he watched her explain. It sounded reasonable, and if he wanted her not to be jealous of his past life, he knew he had to do the same. "Okay, that makes sense to me. I look forward to meeting him."

Libby's body physically relaxed in front of his eyes. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Let's look through your list."

"Go ahead," he said, handing the padd back to her.

Libby scrolled through it for a moment, her lips pursed in concentration. She looked up in surprise. "No Delaneys?"

"No Delaneys," he echoed. "I decided that I would rather have you there than the Delaneys." The part about talking to Tom in the middle of the night about it was something that could remain buddy privilege – for now, anyway.

"You're going to uninvite them?" She shook her head. "There's no way you can do that politely. Besides, a lot of the Voyager crew are going to be there, and I'm sure they'd all like to see each other." She held the padd out to him. "Invite the Delaneys, Harry."

"Are you sure?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read her.

"I can't compete with ghosts of Voyager past," she said, repeating her words from an earlier fight. "So why try? Invite the Delaneys. I've got to see who these legendary women are."

Harry smiled and kissed her slowly, deliberately, more certain than ever that he couldn't wait to marry her.

* * *

**USS Enterprise, School and Nursery**

"Commander Torres, may I speak with you privately for a moment?" Miral's new teacher was smiling, but B'Elanna could tell it was phony. They made themselves as comfortable as they could on two child-sized chairs facing each other. "We had some trouble with Miral today."

"I know," B'Elanna interrupted, "she was tired. She gets cranky when she's tired. I'll make sure she gets more sleep tonight."

"Actually, Commander, we've been having some trouble with her since you arrived." Somehow, the teacher was still smiling. That irked B'Elanna. "I'm concerned that Miral is having trouble adjusting here."

"What do you mean?"

"She's been a little violent," the teacher continued matter-of-factly. "No one has been seriously injured, but we like to encourage the children to use words, rather than violence." The teacher made it sound as if this were a new concept, not one of the tenets upon which the entire Federation had been built, and it made B'Elanna bristle.

"So do Tom and I."

"I understand that Klingon culture has a different understanding of physical contact than humans do."

"This has nothing to do with Klingon culture," B'Elanna responded brusquely. She could feel herself growing angry and tried to imagine, as Tuvok had once taught her, her thoughts as a turbulent ocean above which she could rise.

"Commander, may I speak frankly?" B'Elanna wondered vaguely what the woman had been doing so far. "I heard about the incident in the lounge from some of the other parents. They remarked that you were…expressive…of your anger. Children pick up on these things. Now perhaps you and Lieutenant Paris try to teach –"

B'Elanna summoned her resolve not to get angry and prove the idiot right. "I was _expressive _toward several ensigns who were being insubordinate, Miss Martin. What my husband and I teach our daughter is that she should respect everyone and treat them well, regardless of what culture they come from, and that is precisely what I expect you to be teaching her here at school."

"Let's be frank, Commander. The Klingons have a long history of violence. They had the choice to become civilized several centuries ago, and they opted to indulge their savagery. If you want to raise your daughter that way, that's your prerogative, but you can't expect the school –"

"What do you know about my life?" B'Elanna nearly spat.

"I –"

"You know nothing about my life – or my daughter's. If you want to talk specifically about Miral, we can, but I am not interested in listening to your high-minded critique of Klingon culture." B'Elanna stood up suddenly, knocking the little chair over. She grabbed Miral's hand and hauled her out of the school.

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"B'Elanna, please calm down," Tom urged. "You're going to upset Miral."

"She should be upset, Tom. She should know that in spite of everything we have worked for, there is still racism in the Federation." B'Elanna paced the floor of their bedroom, fists clenched. "_jIH DIchDaq HoH Daj tlhej wIj ghopDu'_," she spat.

"Well, on the plus side, your Klingon's really improving." Before the words even came out of his mouth, Tom knew he was going to say something he would regret. He'd never fully understand what force of nature powered his smart mouth, but it was sometimes an unstoppable one.

Her head swiveled very slowly toward him, and he could see that if her eyes had phaser banks, they'd be firing directly into his brain. "How can you just sit there like that? Aren't you upset?"

"Of course I am," he insisted. "Do you think I like hearing people pass judgment on my wife and child? But what good is being angry going to do you right now? Sit down, please. Let's talk about this in a civilized way." He sighed. "Why don't we have a meeting with the teacher – both of us?"

"Because if I have to sit down with her –"

"Okay, okay, then how about with the teacher and the ship's counselor?"

"The counselor?" B'Elanna squawked.

"Yes, they have one here, right? Let's make use of her."

B'Elanna seemed to consider this idea. "Okay, let's meet with the counselor," she agreed, taking a seat beside him on their bed.

"Okay." Tom rubbed her thigh encouragingly. "Now, what should we do about her hitting her classmates?"

"I don't know if I trust that woman's word," B'Elanna scoffed.

"Hey, munchkin, come here!" Tom called, keeping his eyes trained on B'Elanna. She was fuming, and he knew it was more out of hurt and a desire to protect her daughter from the pain she'd experienced as a child than it was real anger. At least for the moment she wasn't directing it at him.

"Can I help yooooouuuu?" Miral asked, giggling as she entered their bedroom. She held her favorite stuffed animal to her chest.

"Miral, what happened at school today?" B'Elanna asked seriously.

"I made a painting, and we learned about cell membranes."

"And did you get in a fight with anyone?" Tom asked gently.

"Noooo." Miral answered, hopping up and down on one foot.

"Are you sure?" B'Elanna asked again. "Remember that it's not honorable to tell a lie."

"Yeeesssss. I had a fight with Nollret."

"And?"

"And I punched him."

B'Elanna kept calm as she asked, "Have you punched anyone before?"

"Yeeesssss."

"Why did you punch people?"

"They were _petaQ_!" Miral threw herself onto the floor and rolled around in a fit of hysteria.

Her parents, however, were much less amused. "Miral Paris," Tom said with restraint, "go to your room and wait for us." When she was gone, Tom turned to his wife. "Okay, no cartoons for a week."

"Cartoons? Tom, are you serious? She hit people and called them _petaQ_!"

"Don't you wonder where she heard that word?" The phaser-beam eyes bored into him again. "Well, what do you suggest?" he asked in exasperation.

* * *

**Earth, Brazil, University of São Paulo**

"Can I ask you a question, Mr. Chakotay?"

Chakotay nodded to the dean of the faculty as he took a sip of water. Two days into his visit to the university, and Chakotay was beginning to feel good about the interview.

"You have firsthand experience with some of the most advanced technology in the Federation – not to mention other sovereignties. Why this 'eyes and ears only' approach?" The dean leaned forward in his seat a little. "Isn't it a gimmick?"

Chakotay smiled. "I can honestly say it's not. It's become my reputation now, sure, but it's a policy I sincerely believe in. Most of the sites I investigate are religious in nature, and as much as we want to learn from them, we also need to respect them. If a particular culture feels our modern technology is a violation of their sacred place, then, yes, I strongly advocate against using it." He cleared his throat slightly. "I should mention that I will not back down from this policy, regardless of who is supporting the project."

The bald-headed man nodded. "Danvers told me about your falling out. You don't have to worry about that here." He smiled easily. "If I tried to keep track of all the disagreements between different faculty members…" He extended a hand. "I think you're going to fit right in, Professor. If you'll accept a position here."

"I'd love to," Chakotay said earnestly, returning the handshake.

"Have you moved from Dokkara yet? Will you be able to pick up a few lecture spots before the new semester?"

Chakotay nodded. "My belongings are en route, and I'm staying a hotel outside the city for now. I guess I can start any time you want."

"Then you'd better find some permanent housing. We'll start setting up your office tomorrow."

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

"Why didn't you tell me you were here?" Kathryn asked gently to the vision of Chakotay filling her monitor.

"I knew that if I tried to talk to you before the interview, I'd end up tongue-tied."

"I doubt that somehow." She let herself trace the edge of the screen with her fingertips. "It's been awhile since the last time we had dinner together," she said suggestively.

"And pizza with _gagh_ isn't my idea of dinner," he joked. "Why don't you come down here tonight? The local cuisine is really superb, and I'm in the mood to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Kathryn's eyes shone as she realized. "They offered you a position for next semester?"

"They offered me a position starting immediately," he corrected. "This calls for champagne."

"I'd say it does. I have one more meeting today, and then I'll transport there." The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. Was she really doing this? Really going to jaunt off to São Paulo to have dinner with Chakotay? The possibilities suddenly seemed tantalizing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Earth, Brazil, São Paulo, Praça da Sé**

The evening sun glinted off Kathryn Janeway's bare shoulders, and Chakotay marveled at the sight of her. He couldn't contain his smile as he approached and took her hands in his. "Hi," he said, warmth radiating from his voice. He kissed her on the cheek. Kathryn slipped her arm through his as she so often had, but this time her fingers gently kneaded his bicep. "You look beautiful. I thought you'd be in uniform."

"You said this was a celebration," she reminded him as they made their way through the crowd toward an outdoor restaurant. "That calls for letting my hair down, doesn't it?"

"Speaking of hair…" It was less brown than it had been the last time Chakotay had seen her, and part of it was fastened up, but plenty still hung down several centimeters past her shoulders.

"What do you think?" she asked, using her free hand to stroke it.

"It looks beautiful," he answered honestly. "You look ten years younger. Did you change the color?"

"It's a little lighter," Kathryn admitted. "After all, I thought you favored blondes."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Hmm, Seven of Nine, that Borg woman from Texas – what was her name?"

"Riley Frazier," he answered with slight trepidation. He wondered why a perfectly innocent conversation was suddenly taking a turn into dangerous territory – and he recoiled slightly at the thought that Kathryn had been keeping track of his romances over the last decade.

"Right, and that member of Species 8472 you kissed."

"Valerie Archer," he said with a small smile, knowing he'd been caught. "How did you know I kissed her?" Kathryn merely raised an eyebrow in response. "Actually, if you'd bothered to investigate a little further, you'd know I only fall in love with auburn-haired women."

"Like Seska?" she teased.

_Ouch. Time to change course._ "Listen, Kathryn," he began as he pulled out a chair for her at the sidewalk café. She gracefully sat down, and he settled into the seat opposite her. "If you're going to bring up ghosts from the past, there are a few embarrassing things about you I could mention."

Kathryn unfolded her napkin and daintily placed it in her lap. "Such as?"

"Mark, for one," Chakotay answered, cutting right to the wound, the same way she'd done with him, "or that Irish hologram. Or that officer who betrayed us when were transporting telepaths – do you remember that? What was his name?"

Kathryn's usually expressive mouth clenched, and Chakotay wondered if he had perhaps gone too far. _Well, you started it._ Still, this was not how he'd envisioned their first date going. _Bygones?_ He raised his water glass. "What do you say we leave the past behind us and agree to start fresh?"

At that her face relaxed. "That sounds like an excellent idea," she agreed, toasting him.

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge**

_Powell and Paris, what a team_, Tom thought as he pretended to listen to Lieutenant Richard Powell explain something about the EPS relays. He really didn't need to have two engineers in his life prattling on about their heroics against the complicated mechanics of the warp drive, but he really liked Powell, and for the moment he was happy to be sharing his company.

"You look like you're somewhere else," Powell observed. "Is everything okay?"

"To be honest," Tom began, rubbing his glass with his thumb, "the last few times I've been in here, I've had some uncomfortable encounters with unruly ensigns." He looked at Powell. "You're probably heard some stories about me and B'Elanna?"

Powell shook his head. "Nothing worth gossiping about. Just that you served on Voyager together when it was lost in the Delta Quadrant, and that's where you got married. Then you were doing engine design together."

"Powell, you're either a good sport or a good liar," Tom said.

"More likely a good engineer who's too buried in his work to pay attention to the ship's rumor mill," Powell said as he took a sip of his own drink.

"B'Elanna gets that way, too. Sometimes I think the ship could fly into a black hole, and as long the warp field remained stable, she wouldn't notice." Tom looked down at his synthehol gin and tonic for a moment. "I was in a penal colony for awhile. The captain of Voyager actually arranged my release in exchange for helping her turn up a Maquis ship – the one B'Elanna was on. I was a Maquis for awhile, too. I guess I was everything for awhile. But my record's been expunged, and I've been officially declared less of a threat to the Federation than pon farr season on Vulcan–" Powell laughed at his joke " –so here I am. I've changed a lot in the last few years, but it seems no matter how far I go in the galaxy, my past always manages to catch up with me."

Powell took a drink of his own purple synthehol. Then he looked at Tom, his glass still raised, and said, "You know what's funny? This stuff just never tastes as good as the real thing."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Tom," Powell encouraged, setting the drink down, "I like you, and I don't pick my friends based on what I hear other people saying."

It was nearly identical to something Harry Kim had said to him ten years before. Tom smiled into his drink and understood that nothing else needed to be said. "So, Powell," he said, shifting gears, "do you know a holonovel called _Godzilla_?"

* * *

**Earth, Brazil, São Paulo, Praça da Sé**

"That's the last of the champagne," Chakotay declared, emptying the contents into Kathryn's glass.

She didn't hesitate before taking a sip, but she admitted, "I'm getting a little light-headed. I'm not sure I'm used to this much celebrating."

The sun had long since set, and they were now dining under the glow of the streetlights. The air had chilled considerably, and Kathryn had put a light shawl around her shoulders. The champagne had indeed gone to her head, for she was reclining back in her chair comfortably, speaking a little loudly, and gesturing animatedly. Chakotay leaned back in his own chair, watching her with amusement and wondering how and when they were going to call it a night.

She drained her glass and set it back on the table carefully, as though worried it might topple over at any second. "Chakotay," she said in a voice dripping with honey, "I have to get home."

He nodded, anticipating that at some point the evening had to come to an end. It occurred to him that he could have invited her back to his hotel, but as much as he wanted her body at that moment, he couldn't cheapen this perfect night together, a night it had taken them ten years to reach. It couldn't end with a drunken encounter in a hotel room.

Even if he wanted it to.

"I'll walk you back to the transport center."

* * *

**San Francisco, Residence of Libby Lipschitz**

Libby was delighted that she had found actual wax candles and an incendiary device for the dinner she had laid out. She lit the candles and hoped Harry would be home from work soon, before the wax dripped all over the table.

She was also proud to have actually cooked the meal they were about to eat, instead of replicating it. Although it had never mattered much to her before, she now wanted to be a good cook; she knew how much Harry loved his mother's cooking, and her own mother wanted her to carry on that part of the family tradition. She had gotten home early from work that afternoon and spent hours in the kitchen, trying to perfect a smorgasbord she thought would pleasantly surprise Harry.

When he arrived at her apartment, he saw her standing in the middle of the room in a new dress, looking pretty as ever. She was smiling in a strange way, and he knew immediately that something was amiss. He kissed her on the cheek and began to walk toward the bedroom to change out of his uniform, but Libby pulled him back for a longer, more passionate kiss.

"What's this for?" he asked, breathing into her mouth.

"Just a surprise for you."

When their lips parted, she took his hand and led him to the dining table, where he saw plates and silverware, candles, and glasses waiting for them. He looked at her again, with a question in his eyes, but she motioned for him to sit down.

Harry took his seat, and saw that Libby was still smiling knowingly. "Okay," he said with some suspicion, "this is the part where you tell me you're pregnant, right?"

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Office of the Ship's Counselor**

Tom was on duty, which meant B'Elanna and Miral attended the counseling session alone. The ship's counselor had asked B'Elanna to sit in the corner while she spoke to Miral. B'Elanna watched them, impressed with the counselor's efficacy. Over the course of twenty minutes, she'd gotten Miral to explain that she hit her classmates to defend her parents' honor. B'Elanna was devastated to hear this and angry at herself for punishing her daughter without having heard this version of the story.

Counselor Pheres continued to talk gently to Miral about the other children at school, the fights, why Miral used violence instead of talking, and what honor really was. As B'Elanna listened across the room, she marveled at how deftly the counselor was able to get Miral to turn her own ideas into constructive ones. She also admired Pheres' demeanor. She had an incredibly calming presence, and it made B'Elanna realize why Betazoids made good counselors.

When the session was over, Pheres left Miral to play and joined B'Elanna across the room.

"Commander, we haven't really had much time to get to know each other. How are you adjusting to life on the Enterprise?"

"We've had a few bumps," B'Elanna admitted. "But mostly it's been a positive experience." She smiled. "I have a great engineering team."

"I'd like to see Miral once a week for a little while, until she's a little more adjusted to living here. I'm sensing that this experience has been incredibly frightening for her."

"You heard what she said about the teacher."

The counselor's hand came to her arm, silencing her. "Miral's a wonderful child, but she recently left her home and her friends, and that can be a very traumatic experience for a child." She paused. "Or an adult."

"You think _I'm_ the one who's having trouble adjusting?" B'Elanna asked incredulously.

"I'd like to invite you and Lieutenant Paris to a little party in my quarters tomorrow night, around 2000," Pheres continued, unruffled by B'Elanna's attitude. "It's an informal gathering, but I think it might be good for the two of you to get a chance to socialize with some of the crew."

B'Elanna was taken aback. Lower decks aside, the crew of the Enterprise had thus far been incredibly embracing of her and Tom. She said as much aloud.

"Commander," Pheres reminded her, "on a starship, we all depend on each other. It's in our best interest that everyone succeed. The junior officers will learn that eventually."

"And the schoolteacher?"

"The school is new," Pheres told her. "It opened with Captain Klees' arrival. To be honest, you're not the first parent to voice a concern about Miss Martin or her curriculum."

"I'm not?"

Pheres shook her head. "I've heard a complaint that she described the Vulcan _kolinahr_ as an 'unuseful attempt to deny one's nature.' We are investigating the matter. I assure you, the Enterprise has had a Klingon officer before –"

"Worf."

"That's right."

"Everyone at the academy wanted to compare me to him," B'Elanna remembered. She looked at the counselor. "I met him, when Voyager returned to Earth. He helped me through the hearings."

"Then you know that he's had an illustrious career in Starfleet. No one on the Enterprise thinks Klingons are the enemy. Quite the contrary."

"Thank you," B'Elanna said, feeling humbled slightly. She called to Miral, and they left the counselor's office hand in hand, each feeling much better than they'd felt upon entering.

* * *

**Earth, Brazil, São Paulo**

They stood at the transport center entrance, shuffling their feet slightly and stalling. Chakotay could tell Kathryn didn't want to leave any more than he wanted her to go. The night air was charged with longing, but neither of them seemed to know how to direct the energy.

Kathryn drew her shawl more tightly around her, and Chakotay, watching her shiver, gallantly offered his jacket. "I guess I underdressed," she said as he draped it over her shoulders.

"I'm glad. It gives me an excuse to touch you."

Kathryn tried to hide her smile. "I really have to be going," she said with regret. "I have an early meeting."

"Okay," he said quietly, resolving not to burden her with his desire for the evening's outcome. "Thank you for coming here."

Kathryn held his jacket out for him. "I feel terrible that I haven't invited you to my house," she admitted. "I promised you a place to stay." Their eyes met for a second in acknowledgement of the unspoken meaning of her words, and they both looked away, faces reddening.

After a self-conscious pause, Chakotay dared to confess, "I was actually thinking I should invite you to the hotel."

"You can't," Kathryn whispered.

"I know."

She touched his cheek gently. "Congratulations on the new job." Then she stretched up on tiptoe, bracing herself against his chest, and kissed him.

After a moment, Chakotay returned the kiss.

* * *

**San Francisco, Residence of Libby Lipschitz**

"No, I'm not pregnant," she said with a laugh. "Don't you think you'd be involved in that process? I'm on hormone suppressants anyway." She peered at him intently. "I think we both want to have children, but don't you think it should wait awhile?" Harry nodded in relief. "I just wanted to surprise you tonight, so I made dinner with my own two hands," she explained, heading for the kitchen.

"No replicator?" Harry called as she began to place an assortment of dishes on the dining table. There was no identifiable smell rising from any of them. While the colors all seemed ordinary, the texture of each dish looked rather like mush. He looked up at Libby in confusion.

She saw his face and mistook it. "You're so surprised, aren't you!" She looked radiantly happy as she sat down across from Harry and began serving the strange concoctions. "It's so rare that I get to really surprise you."

Harry still had not spoken. He was beginning to wonder if it was some kind of practical joke, maybe because he did tend to talk a little too much about his mother's cooking. If it wasn't a practical joke, though, he certainly could not risk asking her if it was; that would devastate her. He tried to read Libby's eyes and realized that she was wholly sincere.

"I am surprised," he admitted at last. "I never expected you to cook." He cracked. "What is all this?"

Libby's brow furrowed slightly, but she was largely unfazed. "An amalgamation of our heritages," she explained. She pointed to the various items she'd placed on his plate. "Traditional kimchi, a little baba ghannouj, some spicy beef with noodles, and falafel."

Harry picked up his fork but did not eat. Most of the time they replicated. On those few occasions when they ate cooked food, it was food Lucille or his own mother made for them. It occurred to him that he had never actually seen Libby cook in all the time he'd known her. More importantly, he had never _tasted_ anything she cooked.

_No time like the present_, he declared, raising a glop of orange to his mouth. The taste that befell him was worse than day four of Neelix's pleeka rind casserole on Voyager. It was pungent and metallic – entirely wrong. Harry quickly swallowed and reached for a glass of water. He decided to try a brown glop next. When it hit his mouth, it caused the same violent reaction – it was metallic and … it almost reminded him of the time when he was a curious little boy who decided to try licking a plasma coil.

"What do you think?" Libby asked anxiously. Harry noticed that she had not yet tried the food.

_This was one of the moments that will determine the course of our relationship. Do I lie or tell the truth? What did Tom say? Sometimes it's ugly? This is ugly._

Harry opted for the truth, but a careful truth: "It's unlike anything I have ever tasted before."

That satisfied Libby, who raised a forkful of brown mush, put it inside her mouth, and immediately spat it back out across the table – at Harry.

"What the hell?" he cried reflexively, as he wiped the goop off his face and uniform.

"That is the most disgusting food I have ever eaten!" Libby declared. She took a huge gulp of water, making a show of swirling it around her mouth to clean out her taste buds before she swallowed. Harry couldn't help laughing. "Why didn't you tell me it was inedible?"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," he confessed. "It was clear you worked really hard, and that's sweet of you."

"Let's go to the restaurant on the corner and get a pizza," she suggested.

"No way," Harry protested. "We have candles and a romantic dinner laid out. You can't ruin my surprise by asking me to leave. What else did you have planned for tonight?"

"This was it," she said a little dejectedly.

Harry looked around the table for a second. "You know, after a romantic dinner, people usually start getting romantic. Since there's not going to be any dinner…"

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Quarters of Counselor Osria Pheres**

Tom and B'Elanna were introduced around the party to various officers, many of whom they'd met on duty but never had a chance to talk to. The counselor proved herself an artful host, ensuring that she mentioned something she thought they'd have in common with each person she introduced them to. The party was well-attended; even Captain Klees was in attendance. He waved a glass a synthehol at them from the other side of the room.

"Does that mean he wants me to get him another drink?" B'Elanna asked through clenched teeth, waving back.

"I don't know," Tom said, also waving a little. "Just keep walking."

The tone of the party was cordial, but decidedly diplomatic. Given the strain of the last few weeks, though, it was more than they could have hoped for.

When they left Pheres' quarters a few hours later, they were in much better spirits. B'Elanna was chatting excitedly, eyes shining as she recalled how the first officer and captain had approved her request to expand a propulsions research project into an empty science lab. She stumbled slightly as they made their way down the corridor, and as Tom grabbed her elbow, he thought she should pay a little more attention to walking and a little less to propulsions research.

B'Elanna clutched her stomach as the turbolift activated. "It must be out of alignment," she said. "I'll have someone look at it in the morning."

"It feels all right to me," Tom commented. He looked at her and realized she was sweating. "Halt. Sick bay," he ordered the lift.

"I don't need to go to sick bay. It's the turbolift."

"Right."

When the doors slid open, B'Elanna intrepidly stepped out of the turbolift, and then stumbled again. Tom once again caught her, this time in both arms, and led her into sick bay.

"I guess I do feel a little nauseous," B'Elanna admitted to the nurse on duty. "Maybe I had too much synthehol."

He scanned her with a medical tricorder, asking casually, "Commander, is this the first time you've experienced nausea while pregnant?"

Upon hearing the last word, Tom and B'Elanna looked at each other and began laughing in awkward surprise. The nurse regarded them curiously.

"We didn't know she was pregnant," Tom explained.

"My apologies. Were you trying?"

B'Elanna's mind flashed back three years to when Miral had also been a surprise. She looked at Tom, smiling, still slightly embarrassed and in disbelief. "I guess we've been trying for so long, I kind of forgot," she said, recognizing how feeble she sounded.

Tom, who was standing next to the biobed, rubbed her back reassuringly. "How far along?" he asked the nurse.

The nurse's estimated date of conception coincided with their holodeck rock-and-roll concert. Tom looked knowingly at B'Elanna, and her smile grew.

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"I'm really happy for you," B'Elanna said earnestly. "I'm glad you found a university that appreciates you. You deserve it." She knew she meant it – Chakotay's life had been a series of emotional trials in the last few years – but she was having trouble really feeling her own words. Miral was getting into fights at school, she was facing insubordinate junior officers, and now there was a new baby on the way. It was a lot to absorb. "Chakotay, I just found out I'm pregnant," she blurted.

Chakotay burst into a grin for her. "Is that why you called? That's great." B'Elanna tipped her head slightly. "It's not great?"

"I don't know if the Enterprise is going to work out," she said. "Miral and I are both having trouble here. I don't want to bring a new baby into that." B'Elanna sighed and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I'm too old to keep fighting the same battle. Part of me thinks we should see if we can transfer back to the starbase."

"And then the officers who were taunting you would think they'd won, and they'd be right," Chakotay said wisely. "What's Captain Klees think about all of this?"

"He's really supportive," she admitted. "And they're investigating the school."

"So, in other words, everything is fine."

"No, it is _not_ fine, Chakotay," she argued, frustrated that he didn't seem to be understanding.

"Stop calling me with your complaints," he said affably. "You've been through a hell of a lot tougher situations than this, B'Elanna. Aren't expectant mothers supposed to bask in happiness?"

B'Elanna glared at his image on the screen in front of her. "So what happened with Janeway?" Chakotay shook his head, and his reticence made her smile. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" Chakotay kept silent, but his smile stretched wide across his face. As B'Elanna looked him, she felt her own bad mood dissipating slightly, and she knew without a doubt that a lot had happened with Janeway. "I guess I'll talk to you later, when you feel like sharing more."

Chakotay was undaunted, dimples still showing. "Congratulations. Give my love to Miral." The screen went dark.

"Munchkin's asleep," Tom reported, entering the living area from Miral's bedroom. "We'll have to tell her in the morning."

"Do you want to tell Harry?" she offered, moving out of the way of the com screen.

"I'll send him a message in code," Tom answered, taking her place. "Let's see how long it takes him to figure out."

"What about your parents?"

Tom groaned slightly. "Let's save it for tomorrow, okay? I don't have enough energy for the old man right now."

"Fine with me," B'Elanna agreed. "I'm tired."

"Well, what about your dad?"

"No," she said with determination. "It's late, and I'm tired. He can wait." Tom looked at her, as if expecting that she was merely procrastinating because she didn't want to deal with her complicated relationship with John Torres. "No, really, I'll call him in the morning. I really am tired."

"You're sleeping for two now," Tom said cheerfully. Before he could rise from the com station, though, it beeped with an incoming message. "Hang on. Harry already responded."

"That was fast." B'Elanna put an arm around him as she leaned down to read over his shoulder: "'Second quark completes proton. Fireworks.' What does that mean?"

Tom looked up at her. "'Second quark' means second child. I'm the proton – for Captain Proton. And 'fireworks' means congratulations."

"He couldn't just have written that?" She squeezed his shoulder slightly. "Do you feel complete?"

Tom rose from the chair, putting his arms around her waist. "Yeah," he admitted softly, "I do."

Miral came stumbling out of her bedroom then, dragging her favorite blanket behind her. She padded over to them, and B'Elanna picked her up with a kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing awake?"

"Too loud," Miral complained, yawning.

"Hey, munchkin, do you know why we were too loud?" Tom asked. Miral shook her head. "We're going to have a baby."

"A baby?"

"Yes," B'Elanna explained, "a little brother or sister for you."

"What do you think?" Tom asked eagerly.

"Tonight?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Owen Paris**

"Thank you, Nicole," the admiral said appreciatively as he took a cup of coffee from her. Across from him, Kathryn Janeway did the same, and he watched her inhale its aroma as his assistant left the office, closing the door behind her. "So you've heard I'm getting a fifth grandchild?"

Janeway nodded with a proud smile. "Tom and B'Elanna sent me a fetal resonance scan. It's a little hard to tell at this point, but I'd say she has your smile, Owen."

The old man's eyes twinkled as he showed off the smile. "I hope B'Elanna gives birth before they arrive here this summer. I'd like to meet my new granddaughter."

Janeway's eyes drifted to the corner of his desk, where a very old picture of Tom Paris as a cadet sat next to a picture of Tom, B'Elanna, and Miral happily hugging each other on a beach somewhere. Her family was growing up, Janeway realized, and growing in size. Soon a few more would be added to the mix. Although she didn't say as much to her former mentor, she shared his pride.

"I didn't ask you here to talk about my grandchildren, Kathryn," Paris said seriously. "I read Commander Barclay's report on Pathfinder –"

"Oh, and here I thought you had given that project to me," Janeway said pointedly as she took a sip of coffee.

"Call it curiosity," Paris said somewhat apologetically. "But I'm intrigued by this cadet who's interning there."

"Icheb," she reminded him. "You've met him before."

"His theories on the application of Borg technology into Starfleet communications are fascinating," Paris continued. "He graduates this year, doesn't he?" Janeway nodded in confirmation. "Do you know what he wants to do after that? I think we should keep him around Headquarters. He'll be far more useful in research and development than on a ship somewhere."

"Why are you talking to me about this?" Janeway wondered. "Shouldn't you be talking to the Commandant of Cadets or to Icheb himself?"

"He's one of yours, and I know you like to look out for your own." Paris smiled knowingly, as if hiding something from her, and Janeway found his attitude more than a little disquieting. "How's Professor Chakotay these days?"

Janeway set her cup of coffee on his desk, uncrossing her legs and rising swiftly to her feet. "Admiral, with your permission, I'd like to be dismissed. I have a lot of work to get done, and not a lot of time for a social call."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"Did you send another message to Admiral Janeway?" Tom asked his wife as she entered their quarters from her duty shift.

"My day was fine. Thanks for asking," B'Elanna answered, casually sauntering over to their daughter. She leaned down to kiss her and stroked her hair. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hi, Mommy."

B'Elanna sank into the sofa. "What's this about Admiral Janeway?" she asked, pulling off her boots and throwing them haphazardly onto the floor.

"She sent you a message."

B'Elanna propped her feet on the coffee table with a slight groan and rubbed her still-flat belly as the baby inside kicked briefly. "Can you bring the computer over?"

Tom dutifully took the small computer monitor over to B'Elanna on the sofa and activated it. Admiral Janeway's face filled the screen as her unmistakable gravelly voice filled their quarters. "Hello, B'Elanna," the message began.

B'Elanna paused it. "That is _not_ her happy hello."

"Maybe she and Chakotay had a lovers' quarrel," Tom suggested. He sat down next to B'Elanna, lifting her feet from the coffee table to do so and then settling them in his lap.

"I hear you and Tom have had some trouble aboard the Enterprise. B'Elanna, I can't imagine how it must feel to be in either of your positions. But I urge you to think carefully before you make any decision. You worked hard for that job, and you deserve it. I don't recommend people lightly. You owe it to me, and to Tom and Miral, and to yourself. And that new baby of yours." The message ended up abruptly.

Tom looked at B'Elanna with confusion. "What was that about?"

"I think I just got a reprimand."

"For what?"

"For thinking that anything I said to Chakotay was just between him and me."

* * *

**Main Engineering**

"Powell, can I ask you a question?" B'Elanna said as they stood side-by-side working at consoles.

"Anything, Chief," her assistant amiably agreed.

"You worked under Geordi LaForge, didn't you?" Powell nodded, passing her a padd. She took it, entered a few calculations, and then handed it back to him. "What was he like? How would you say I compare?"

"Red alert."

"Be honest."

"Commander LaForge is really something," Powell said, and B'Elanna appreciated his honesty. "He's a great leader, and he always keeps his cool, no matter what."

At this she nearly snorted. "Night and day, huh?"

"You're a little more high-spirited, all right," he confirmed. He ducked down and removed the panel to the console he was working on. B'Elanna knelt down beside him and handed him an ODN recoupler. They peered into the console together. "But you and Tom are a lot more fun."

"That doesn't give me a lot of confidence, Powell." She leaned over his shoulder, examining his work with her tricorder. "The third distribution node is still out of alignment."

"Sorry," he said, readjusting it. "It's not just personal, Chief. The propulsions research you've started has everyone around here excited. We never did anything like that before." He looked at her, and she nodded that the adjustments were to specification and snapped the tricorder closed. He replaced the access panel, and they rose in tandem.

"Tom told you we're expecting, right?" she asked, leaning against the console.

Powell nodded. "I didn't want to say anything until you told me yourself, but congratulations. And if there's anything I can do – if you need some extra help or…" His voice trailed off when he saw the look she was giving him. "Or we could just pretend nothing has changed until you go into labor?"

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed. "Did you hear about Tengis and Flynn and Mandrake?"

"Yeah, court-martialed. They deserved it." Powell looked at her contemplatively. "Chief, if you're thinking about leaving the Enterprise because of all that nonsense, well, don't. I'd like to try working under you for awhile."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Museum of Aquatic Sciences**

Harry Kim marched across the spacious lobby of the museum with a small bouquet of spring flora. He had a wide smile on his face that grew when he saw his fiancée talking to a group of visitors near a tank of holographic sea mammals.

As he approached, Libby saw him and, even though she was still talking about the extinction of the Floridian manatee, her face broke into a big grin that must have confused the museum-goers. She stumbled a little in her memorized spiel, the sight of Harry having disrupted her concentration. At last, she finished and urged them to explore the vicinity on their own, to get to know marine life on a personal level. As the crowd dissipated, she made her way toward Harry.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had a little free time, and I thought I'd come visit you."

"Come back to my office," she suggested. "I should warn you, though – I have a Vulcan school group coming in thirty minutes, and they prize punctuality."

"I can't stay long anyway," Harry told her.

Libby led him by the hand across the great hall into the main series of offices and, finally, into her private office. One of the walls was a window onto a tank of Bolian sea lizards. The room itself was dark, so that the light didn't disturb the swimming creatures. Harry didn't know why or how, but something about the blue glow of the office reflected in her face enticed him. He had to have her. He threw himself at her, kissing her feverishly.

"Hey, what's gotten into you?" It was a question, not a protest.

He decided not to answer in words and kept kissing. Libby understood. She pulled away from him long enough to lock the office door and access her com system, instructing her assistant to meet the Vulcan children in her place.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Medical**

"All right, Admiral, it's time to confess," the EMH said as he ran his tricorder over Janeway. "Elevated dopamine and oxytocin levels, an increased heart rate – you're either a very sick woman, or you're in love."

Janeway nearly gasped in surprise but caught herself. "Doctor," she said warningly, threateningly.

He closed his tricorder and settled next to her on the biobed. "Admiral, there's nothing wrong with a little companionship every now and then." He paused for a moment. "How was your meeting with Admiral Paris?"

Janeway couldn't tell if it was a change of topic or if he knew something. She decided to play dumb. "He has some new pictures of your goddaughter. She's just charming right now – she's at that phase where she's discovered humor. She thinks she's funnier than Tom does."

The Doctor smiled – news of his goddaughter always warmed his holographic heart – but he told her gently, "I wasn't asking about Miral."

"I know you weren't." She cocked her head to the side. "Doctor, when we were on Voyager, I needed someone to talk to, and it would have been uncomfortable to confide in anyone else on the crew, but now – "

"Now I'm just a concerned friend," he interrupted, sliding off the bed. He put the tricorder back on the supply cart.

"There's no reason to feel awkward about this, Admiral. Your friends – your family – we're all happy to see this develop."

Janeway frowned slightly. "Just what exactly do you think has developed?"

"Not much…yet." The Doctor gave a self-satisfied smile. "Professor Chakotay is renowned for his 'old-fashioned' methods, after all."

Janeway held her tongue. There was a big difference between using tachyon scans and jumping headfirst into a relationship, but somehow she suspected the Doctor didn't care. He really just wanted to tell her in his own way that he knew what was going on between her and Chakotay, to get as many details out of her as he could. She wasn't going to satisfy him.

"Well, I should get back to work," she said lightly. "Thanks as always for your expert medical care."

"My pleasure." There was a definite note of disappointment in voice.

Just as she approached the exit, a thought occurred to her, and Janeway turned around. "Who told you, anyway? Reg or Admiral Paris?"

"Actually," the Doctor said, "it was Chakotay."

* * *

**USS Enterprise**

"Lieutenant," B'Elanna said with surprise as the turbolift door opened and she saw her husband inside. "This is a surprise." In spite of the fact that they were alone, she was using her on-duty voice.

"Good to see you, Commander," Tom responded in an equally official tone. "I'm on my way to the shuttle bay," he told her, dropping the formalities, as she stepped in beside him.

"Deck eight," she ordered. "I'm on my way to get Miral and then home for dinner. You don't mind if we eat without you, do you? I'm famished."

Tom smiled in good humor. His wife's pregnancy was speeding along, and in addition to the now visible protrusion from her uniform, she had certainly begun eating enough for two – or three. "I talked to Harry this morning. He spent ten minutes telling me about how he persuaded Chakotay to come to his wedding."

"Persuaded him?" B'Elanna repeated.

Tom nodded. "I guess no one told him about the admiral. He still thinks they're on shaky ground and that Chakotay is nervous to see everyone again."

"And you didn't tell him?"

Tom suppressed a grin. "You always tell me not to talk about Chakotay's private life."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Museum of Aquatic Sciences**

"Hi, Harry," of the museum staff called as Harry entered the aquatic center with a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. She giggled slightly as he went past her.

"Harry, how are you?" another woman asked knowingly. She looked at the first and laughed.

Harry did not fully understand why his appearance at Libby's place of employment was humorous, but he didn't ask any questions. As he walked toward Libby's private office, he could feel eyes staring at him. His face burned a little, though he still didn't understand why.

Libby's office door flew open, and she pulled him inside by grabbing the front of his uniform. Harry stumbled in, and the flowers went crashing to the floor. She closed the door behind her, leaned up against it, and said only, "Oh my god!"

"What?" Harry asked, puzzled by her strange behavior.

"You shouldn't have come here!"

"Why not? What's going on?"

Libby rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Harry, it's so embarrassing."

"What is it?" His interest and his concern were growing.

"Remember the last time you came here?" Harry smiled dreamily at the memory. "Snap out of it!" she said, hitting him across the chest. "Harry, remember how I called someone to meet the Vulcan school group? I never closed the com system."

Harry's eyes widened. "Well, that explains why they were all laughing when I came in." He pondered the situation for a moment.

As, apparently, Libby was doing. She reached a conclusion. "I'll have to fire them all."

"You can't fire the entire staff," he tried to reason.

"Well, then, you can never come here again." She dropped onto the sofa, head hanging between her knees.

Harry sat beside her and took her hands. "I give it three weeks to blow over. It's a little embarrassing, but you'll live through it. I'm sure someone else will do something equally embarrassing soon, and then the whole office will forget about us."

"Harry," Libby said, looking up at him, "they gave you a nickname."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Torres-Paris Family Quarters**

"I'm home!" Tom called happily as he entered their quarters with two roses in hand. He first saw B'Elanna and gave her a sizzling kiss before handing her one of the stems. He put a hand on her swollen belly. "How is she today?"

"Hungry," B'Elanna confessed.

Tom chuckled. "Let me change, and I'll replicate dinner in five minutes. Munchkin!"

Miral came running across the living room toward him. B'Elanna swiftly took the remaining rose from Tom's hand before he grabbed Miral, threw her in the air, and caught her in a hug. He presented the flower to her. "This is for you, munchkin."

"Why?" she asked, greedily taking the flower in her hand.

"Because I love you."

Miral seemed satisfied with this answer for a moment, but when she saw that her mother also had a flower, her face clouded over. "Why'd you give one to _her_?"

"Because I love her, too."

"Daddy, who do you love more?"

Tom and B'Elanna made brief eye contact before he answered. "I love you the same amount – but I love you in different ways."

Whether she approved of his answer or merely lost interest in the subject, Miral began to wriggle in his arms, and Tom knew she wanted to be put down. Once her feet hit the carpet, she scampered away from them.

"What was that all about?"

B'Elanna shook her head slightly. "I wouldn't worry about it. Counselor Pheres says it's normal for her to feel some jealousy toward the baby. I guess until the baby comes, she'll take it out on me." She shrugged. "I have some news, though."

"Don't tell me you're leaving me for that Vulcan at ops. He's all wrong for you."

"Be serious," she entreated, but her smile betrayed her. "Miss Martin was removed from her position today."

"Really?" he asked. "Because of that complaint you filed?"

"I know I said I'd stop making decisions without you, but you have to understand what it's like to be judged just on your appearance." She could hear him in her mind, thinking up a retort like, _But they do. That's why I'm so popular._ But Tom kept silent and nodded for her to continue. "If people think you're hostile, you can't defend yourself because you only end up proving their point, but if you don't defend yourself, you can't stop them from making unfair judgments about you. I don't ever want Miral to feel that sort of dilemma. I don't want her to be judged by the fact that she has a Klingon forehead and by some idiot teacher's understanding of Klingon history. I want Miral to be judged by what kind of a person she is. And I don't think it's unfair to ask that her teacher cultivates a classroom that does that."

"I think you're right, and I'm glad that teacher is gone," Tom said slowly. "You sound incredibly well-reasoned."

"Really?" B'Elanna said with some relief.

"Really." Tom kissed her again to prove his point. Then, deciding he was probably the only person in the universe who could get away with it, he put his hands on her shoulders and added, "In fact, you sound utterly un-Klingon."

B'Elanna had to appreciate that only Tom Paris would make a joke like that after a profound discussion on the nature of racial stereotyping. She shook her head and leaned in to kiss him again.

* * *

**Earth, Brazil, University of São Paulo, Office of Professor Chakotay**

The student sitting in the corner of his office was prattling on about her paper on Krylar 4, but Chakotay's mind was elsewhere – specifically, in Indiana. Although nothing as yet had happened between him and Kathryn Janeway, save for a smoldering kiss or two at the end of some very intimate dinners, it was becoming increasingly clear that his disheveled hotel room would eventually be replaced with a quaint farm house outside Bloomington. They hadn't actually discussed it, but Chakotay felt he understood Kathryn and her intentions. If they were going to be together, it was going to be gung-ho – nothing in between for them.

This insight titillated him. It left him unable to concentrate, which was a dangerous occurrence for someone who had just recently lost one job and taken up another. It made his mind wander from ancient myths and ruins to Starfleet and the secret lives of its admirals.

"And for my thesis, I thought I'd do a comparative study between Krylar and Tau Ceti Prime," the blonde finished. She looked quite nervous with anticipation as she asked, "Would you consider being my advisor?"

"Of course," Chakotay replied easily. "There's no one on faculty who's done more work with Krylar than I have. But you might want to look at Jodyn Karel's research on Tau Ceti."

The beeping of his computer interrupted their conversation, and without thinking Chakotay activated it. Kathryn's face appeared on screen. "Hello," she began, sounding a little angry.

"Hi," he said, his eyes darting to the student. "I'm with someone right now. Can you hold on just one minute?" He turned back to the girl in his office. "Why don't you start reading Karel's papers and we can meet again next week to talk about them?" She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Chakotay returned his attention to the monitor.

Kathryn wasn't just angry, he realized; she was fuming. "You owe me an explanation," she accused.

"What are you talking about?" he asked with confusion.

"I just came from a medical exam. The Doctor asked me about us."

"Oh?"

"Chakotay, what did you tell him?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

"That's not what he says," she said in her best captain's voice. He'd heard that voice directed at him only once or twice, during their most difficult times on Voyager, times that had threatened to tear apart the unity of their command structure. He didn't really have any desire to hear that tone again now.

"Kathryn," he said calmly, "The Doctor commed me last week. He was talking my ear off about Reg Barclay and you, and I finally told him you and I have been having dinner together to get him to shut up."

"You didn't say anything about…being in love?"

Kathryn was a very private person, he knew, and she was also not very expressive of her feelings. Having to ask him the question had embarrassed her, he could tell, and he rightly assumed it made her feel vulnerable, as though she'd just revealed her own feelings toward him and could now only wait for him to confirm – which meant he had betrayed their privacy to the Doctor – or deny – which meant he didn't feel the same way back.

Chakotay decided not to answer at all. "Do you think I would violate your trust?" he simply asked. "Have I ever done that?" He kept a firm gaze on her, trying to mentally tear down her defenses.

"No," she admitted a little sheepishly. "I'm sorry I accused you. The Doctor caught me off-guard, I guess. Actually, it was the second time in the same day." She leaned toward the screen. "Owen Paris asked about you."

Chakotay nearly guffawed. "I definitely didn't com him. I have no idea where he could have heard anything about us."

"Neither do I," she said, "and I wasn't about to ask." They shared a laugh for a moment, releasing some of the tension between them.

"Kathryn," Chakotay said gently, "I don't think what happens between us is anyone else's business, but at some point they're going to start asking more direct questions."

"And?"

"Whatever is happening between us, it's only a matter of time until you have to address it publicly." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued hastily, "I'm not asking you to send a message through the MIDAS Array. But if we're serious about establishing a relationship, if I'm important to you, then at some point, you'll have to stop hiding it. And me."

He watched her falter as she tried to figure out what to say. He knew she wasn't intentionally hiding their relationship or trying to be hurtful, but he also knew that she sometimes needed to be pushed.

"There's a story among my people," he continued, "about a man who refused to wear the ceremonial war paint of his tribe. He thought that if he ever came across the enemy, he could confuse them. They wouldn't be able to recognize him, and he'd have the advantage. But one day a group of warriors from his own tribe encountered him in the woods. He couldn't prove he belonged to their group because he wasn't wearing the paint, and they killed him." Their eyes met for a silent moment. "If he'd been less worried about hiding who he was from the enemy and more concerned with showing his own group that he belonged to them, he would have lived."

Kathryn's mouth turned down at the corners as she said softly, "How can I show you I belong with you?"

Chakotay smiled affectionately, trying to show her with his face that it was okay. "You just did."

"How's the hotel?" she chanced to ask.

Now it was Chakotay's turn to falter slightly. A promise made not too long ago, when he'd announced he was returning to Earth, came back to his mind. She was going to offer him a place to stay, and he was going to take it. When they'd made the promise, they had both meant it as a short-term arrangement. As he opened his mouth to answer her, Chakotay knew without a doubt that if he went to her house to stay with her, it was going to be for a very long time.

"I think it's time to check out," he announced.


	14. Chapter 14

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence**

Though Kathryn Janeway had no way of knowing it at the time, the sight of Chakotay coming up the road with a duffel bag over the shoulder was soon going to be a sight familiar to her, one she'd look forward to after each of his archaeological expeditions. And each time she would watch him come up the road, she'd think about that first time, when he was walking back into her life after three long years. Kathryn felt her face erupting into a smile, and of their own accord her legs propelled her forward. Her pace quickened until she was jogging toward him, and she could see the grin on his face. He threw down his bag and ran the distance to meet her. His arms opened wide, and she was swept into them.

They embraced for a moment, their bodies pressed tightly against each other, Kathryn's feet lifted just slightly off the ground. Then she pulled back. She took his face in her hands and searched his eyes. He let her look for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed her.

* * *

**Fiji, Vanua Levu**

"Do you realize that by this time next week we will be married?" Harry Kim asked Libby softly as they sat right on the edge of the beach, letting the waves wash over their feet. "I can't believe it's finally here. It's taken forever for this week to arrive."

"It could have happened a lot sooner," Libby reminded him, "if you hadn't been so intent on finishing that new sensor array first."

"Hey, you said you understood what it meant to be involved with a Starfleet officer," Harry protested mildly. "I thought you liked that I was dedicated to my job."

"I do," she assured him. "Do you think we'll feel any different after we're actually married?"

Harry stretched out his legs, letting the water snake up to where his rear end was sunk into the warm sand. "No," he said. "My guess is that we'll feel exactly the same, and we'll wonder why we did it in the first place. Let's just skip it."

"Very funny, Harry." Feeling the heat of the sun overhead, Libby pulled up her brown curly hair and fastened it on top of her head.

Harry admired the form of her neck and noticed the little beads of sweat forming on it. He couldn't resist, and he kissed her just below the ear. That made Libby a little ticklish, and she involuntarily pulled away from him. He tickled her under the ribs, and she jerked back toward him, unable to control herself. He put his arms around her and held onto her tightly.

"Whose mother do you think will be more difficult, mine or yours?" she wondered.

"That's a tough one," Harry said. "Why didn't we think they should meet before the wedding?"

"Because we wanted to delay the inevitable clash of personalities."

"Oh, that's right." He kissed her neck again and released her. "Libby, is there anything you want me to promise you? Anything you want to me to do or stop doing? Anything that you don't want to live with for the next fifty years?"

"Only fifty?" she teased. She considered the question for a moment. "I want you to promise me that you'll always be as dutiful as you are now – to me, to your parents, to your friends, to Starfleet. We joke about how devoted you are to your work, but it's one of the things I really love about you."

"I think I can make that promise," Harry said sincerely.

"What about me?"

"I want you to promise me that you will never, ever try to cook dinner again."

Libby laughed. "Ooh, that one's easy to keep," she pledged. She had no way of knowing then that her cooking was going to be one of the ways Harry would come to identify being home.

* * *

**USS Enterprise**

"I feel like a fat targ," B'Elanna Torres complained, tugging at her maternity uniform as they made their way toward the shuttle bay. "I don't even fit into the Jeffries tubes anymore. This morning I had to send Powell to fix a faulty phase compensator."

"You're the chief engineer," her husband reminded her. "You're supposed to send other officers into the Jeffries tubes to do the work."

"I feel ugly," she continued as the shuttle bay doors opened for them.

"Well, you look gorgeous."

"Yeah, right." B'Elanna looked down at the gear stowed near the shuttlecraft. "You're sure you brought all of Miral's clothes?"

"Check the cargo hold if you don't believe me." She turned to do just that, and Tom looked down at his daughter, who was holding his hand. "Mommy is a little crazy today."

"Why?"

"I don't know, munchkin," he answered truthfully. "Maybe she's excited to go to Earth."

"For Harry's wedding?"

"That's right."

"Daddy, can I get in the shuttle?" she asked, pulling down on his arm.

"Yes," he agreed, releasing her from his grip, "but remember what we talked about?"

"You're the flyboy."

"And what does that mean?"

"I can't touch the controls."

"Smart girl." Tom watched as his daughter used her hands and knees to climb into the shuttle. As she disappeared inside, he could hear her stomping and jumping up and down. Only a year ago, he'd marveled at how quiet a child she was, and now at age three she was bursting with exuberance. He loved it; he just hoped at least some of it would taper off, or else it was going to be a long flight.

B'Elanna came up beside him with Powell at her side. "And don't forget the stupid port Bussard collector. MacKenzie and Koros are still trying to figure out what's wrong with it. You need to check in with them," she said as Powell nodded. Tom suspected she was repeating orders she had already given and had already left on a padd in her engineering office. "I'll contact you tomorrow to hear how the refitting of the power couplings went. And don't let Marchetti get near the plasma injectors. Last week he nearly lost a hand."

"Of course," Powell said politely. He dared to look away from her and toward Tom for help.

"B'Elanna," Tom interrupted, "he knows everything. They'll be fine."

She did not like being challenged in front of her assistant, even if that assistant was Tom's friend. She physically brushed off his attempt to touch her. Powell noticed.

"There's a senior officers' meeting tomorrow at 0800. Captain Klees is expecting you to attend in my place. He's going to want a complete run-down of our maintenance logs. Have Larsen pull that information together for you," she continued a little testily. "Is there anything else I'm leaving out?"

Powell held up a padd. "No, Commander, it's all here."

"Lieutenant, I am telling you things that may not be on the padd," she snapped. "Have you been making notes?"

Powell looked helplessly at Tom.

"B'Elanna, we won't be out of com range," Tom reminded her. "He can call you if he has any questions."

"My codes! I forgot to change my authorization codes to you!" She turned to the main wall of the shuttle bay. "Computer, transfer Torres engineering authorization codes to Lieutenant Powell, authorization Torres delta-three-seven-three." She looked smugly at Tom as if to say, _See? He didn't have everything he needed._

"Authorization codes have already been transferred. Please restate parameters."

Tom suppressed a smile.

"Commander," Powell said nervously, sensing it was the best time to make a getaway, "if there's nothing else, I should get back to engineering and supervise all the work you've lined up for us."

"Of course," she said, trying to save face.

"Have a good trip, you two." Powell headed out of the shuttle bay as fast as he could.

This left B'Elanna to focus all of her attention on Tom. "Don't question me in front of one of my engineers again," she warned.

"Sorry, but you're a little high-strung this morning. I've never seen Powell look so cornered." He had expected her to get a little overzealous in leaving instructions for the engineers, but he had not anticipated her to turn on him. _Oh, _he realized. _She's having a hormonal episode._ He had lived through it three years ago, and thus far he had witnessed nothing with this second pregnancy. Perhaps it was her advanced state or perhaps it was the strain of preparing for two weeks away from her beloved warp core, but here it was – the evils of body chemistry that were the result of pregnancy and best left alone, regardless of the advances in modern medicine.

When he had lived through her pregnancy with Miral, Tom assumed that his casual encounters with various pregnant women in his life and his medical training would suffice. He quickly learned that he was completely unprepared for the realities of day-to-day living with a pregnant half-Klingon. Most of the time she was fine – her back ached, and she ate more than usual, but otherwise there were no noticeable changes – but on occasion she would snap. "Behavioral volatility," the Doctor had warned them.

One desperate day he had literally begged Voyager's doctor to give him something to make B'Elanna start acting normal again. "You don't even have to tell her, Doc," he had said in desperation. "I'll give her a hypospray while she's asleep." The Doctor had assured him that B'Elanna was normal, for a pregnant woman, and reminded him that he probably did not want her to give birth to a child laced with artificial hormones passed on through its mother's bloodstream. He then suggested, none too politely, that Tom try his best to give B'Elanna whatever the hell she wanted and steer clear if he couldn't.

Now, as they prepared for two weeks of shore leave, Tom dreaded the idea that it would all be spent with an inexhaustible toddler and a cranky pregnant woman.

"What's wrong?" B'Elanna asked. "You look pretty sad for someone who's about to see his best friend."

Tom turned to look at her and saw that it was her, the real her, once again. Gratefully he kissed her, and she kissed back for a moment, then blushed a little and turned her head away.

"Tom, the officer on duty…"

Tom looked over at the shuttle bay control station, where an ensign was attempting not to look at them. "Hey, we're not on duty," he reminded her. He glanced around the shuttle bay to ensure that all their gear had been stowed. "You ready?"

* * *

**Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence**

Kathryn led Chakotay by the hand around the backyard, pointing out the various vegetables she was trying to grow. "My mother will die when she sees how much satisfaction this garden gives me," she confessed. "I'm sure she never thought I'd settle in farm country, much less try to grow anything myself." She realized Chakotay was looking at her strangely. "What?"

"That's the first time you've mentioned your mother to me in a long time," he observed.

"You met her at the Voyager homecoming party," she reminded him. "But I suppose I'll have to reintroduce you." She quickly realized they were a lot of people in her life she was going to have to reintroduce him to.

Fortunately, before the conversation could steer itself toward the serious, Chakotay smiled and nodded at the expansive grounds. "I think this suits you."

"Glad you approve. Now for the inside." She started toward the house, leaving him to trail her. "I hope you're hungry. I took the liberty of making lunch for us."

The house had a distinctly farm feel inside, with rustic wooden furniture and various small carpets spread across the wooden floorboards. It was utterly unlike Admiral Janeway, but as he looked around, Chakotay knew without a doubt that Kathryn felt at home here.

He sat down at the kitchen table, which was already spread with food. Kathryn had replicated salad, some kind of pie, a pot roast, and potatoes. She approached him, brandishing a pitcher of lemonade. "Homemade," she said, filling his glass. "I squeezed the lemons myself."

The food-laden table gave the modern kitchen a comfortable feeling, and as Chakotay drank Kathryn Janeway's famous homemade lemonade, he wondered how long it would be before he, too, felt at home here.

Kathryn sat down opposite him. "Dig in," she ordered. As they began to fill their plates, she kept one eye on Chakotay, and she felt a stirring inside that hadn't been there in a very long time. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too," he admitted. He set his plate in front of him and, feeling her eyes still upon him, looked up at her. They held each other's gaze for a long moment. "What is it?"

Kathryn didn't answer right away. She kept looking at him and finally took in a long breath. "Chakotay," she said softly, "I love you."

He reached across the table for her hand, which he brought to his lips. "I love you, too."

* * *

**Shuttlecraft Argo, En Route to Earth**

"Daddy, this is boring," Miral complained. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the shuttle, playing a children's card game together. It was hours into their flight, and Tom had to agree with her.

"I know, munchkin, but we can't go any faster. We'll be there soon."

"Can I go to the front?"

When they were at the starbase, he'd taken her on a prototype shuttle a few times. But she was much younger then, and she'd essentially just sat on his lap, wide-eyed, while he controlled the helm. Now she was a hyperactive toddler, and if he took her to the conn, he suspected she'd want to fly the ship. He didn't have a problem with that; it was, in fact, a dream of his. But the captain of the Enterprise might not be as open to the possibility.

"We have to check with the senior officer on board," Tom said. He could tell Miral didn't understand. He laid his cards down. "Munchkin, do you know want to know a secret?"

Miral's eyes and mouth opened very wide. "What?" she whispered, enthralled.

"Sometimes," Tom whispered, putting a finger to his lips, "it's very fun that Mommy is the superior officer." Miral nodded that she would keep the secret. "Stay here for a second. I'll be right back."

Tom moved to the front of the shuttle and found B'Elanna working her way through a padd. "The 'leave' part of 'shore leave' doesn't really register with you, does it?" he joked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just reading the deflector analysis," she explained.

"Oh." Tom knew there was no deflector analysis report. It dawned on him that she was reading a Klingon romance novel. _Well, at least she's not working._ "Miral and I want to know if she can come up here."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're the senior officer."

"We're not on duty," she reminded him. She put the padd down as she considered it. "I can't imagine Klees is okay with a child sitting at the helm of one of his shuttles," she began, "but, then again, he is always saying that the children on the ship need to be encouraged to learn more about it."

Tom grinned happily and nearly ran back to his daughter. He returned in a moment with her and, as he had pictured, sat at the helm with her in his lap. He patiently explained each function on the console, and he even called up several submenus to explain how to tap into non-navigational systems, like life support, communications, and weapons. B'Elanna had never seen Miral sit so still or pay closer attention to anything. She wanted to point it out to Tom, but she didn't dare disturb them.

When he had given her the complete tour of the helm controls, Tom led Miral around to the other stations. He even opened a few access panels – with a mild look of reproach from B'Elanna, who feared their daughter getting a plasma shock – and explained the innards of the shuttlecraft.

After a while Miral grew tired of listening, and the two of them retreated to the rear of the cabin. B'Elanna returned to her reading.

A few minutes later Tom bounded to the front again, grinning madly. "She said she wants to be a pilot!"

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Golden Gate Park**

"Ensign," Kathryn Janeway said with pride as she greeted Icheb. She embraced him warmly. "How's the new assignment going?"

"Commander Barclay is a 'slave-driver,'" Icheb deadpanned. Janeway, the Doctor, Reg, and Chakotay burst into laughter, but Icheb remained impassive. "I was kidding," he assured his commanding officer after a moment.

Chakotay clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Your sense of humor is getting pretty great," he said. "And I hear we're going to be rivals starting this fall."

"Rivals?"

"You're going to be teaching at the academy, aren't you?"

Icheb nodded. "But you teach about cultures that have long since disappeared."

"Someday, Icheb," Chakotay said seriously, "let's hope that's true of the Borg, too." He patted the young man's shoulder once more and turned to Kathryn. "We should get seats before the good ones disappear."

She nodded, but as they started to move away, the Doctor caught her. "It's good to see you looking so happy, Admiral."

Janeway smiled. "Thank you, Doctor." She took the hand Chakotay extended toward her, and they made their way through the guests.

Before they could sit down, however, Harry Kim spotted them and made his way over. Janeway gave him a warm embrace, wishing him her most sincere congratulations with a slight tear in her eye. Chakotay patted Harry on the back affectionately. Poor Harry, who had expected to be running interference between the two, seemed utterly confused to find them together.

"I guess the old rumor mill isn't quite what it used to be," Janeway said cryptically as she and Chakotay took their seats.

Harry didn't have time to respond. He saw three silhouettes moving toward the crowd, and one of them was unmistakably pregnant. "B'Elanna! Look at you!" He took her hands and admired her pregnant form. Then he threw his arms around her and rubbed her belly affectionately. He couldn't wait for his new niece's arrival, and he couldn't wait to see that kind of glow on Libby's face.

"Look at you, Starfleet," she said affectionately, touching the two solid pips on his dress uniform.

Harry turned to Miral, who was cradled in Tom's arms. "Munchkin," he said, borrowing her father's nickname for her, "I'm so glad you're here." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I thought I'd see you all before today."

"Harry," Tom said, "you had enough to worry about. Anyway, we've been catching up with my folks."

Harry pointed to the seating area, where Janeway and Chakotay had been joined by a few others from their Voyager days. "The admiral was holding Chakotay's hand when she arrived!" he said secretly to Tom and B'Elanna.

They burst out laughing. "Harry, buddy" Tom said, clapping him on the arm, "get with it."

Harry's brow furrowed for a moment, but he had other matters to attend to. "Are you going to be my best man or not?"

"I wouldn't miss it. Lead the way." Tom set Miral down on the ground and followed Harry to where the officiant and Libby were waiting.

B'Elanna and Miral, meanwhile, found seats next to Chakotay, whispering their hellos to him and Janeway as the ceremony started. As the officiant began a welcoming speech, B'Elanna surveyed the crowd for familiar faces. Icheb, the Doctor, and Reg Barclay were in the row behind them. Across the aisle she spotted Jenny Delaney and Magnus Rollins, holding hands and looking moon-faced. _Well, that's probably the next Voyager wedding._ Jenny's sister Megan was sitting next to them, and B'Elanna stifled a laugh at seeing her. Megan was attractive and kind, but she was obviously wrong for Harry. _How could Libby possibly be jealous? She's much more suited to Harry than Megan Delaney ever was._ Next to them were Tuvok and T'Pel, and B'Elanna made a mental note to say hello to them right after the ceremony.

"Where's Ayala?" Chakotay whispered to her. "I thought he and Harry were still close."

B'Elanna shrugged. "Is Vorik here?"

"He's on assignment," Janeway whispered back.

"Why are you asking about Vorik?" Chakotay teased. "Aren't you married?"

The Doctor leaned forward to shush them, and the trio fell into silence as Harry and Libby placed gold rings on each other's fingers. Then they kissed, and their friends and family applauded for them.

A few hours later, a number of the old Voyager crew found themselves seated at the same table as the partygoers ate, danced, and mingled and the sun began to set over the Pacific Ocean. The atmosphere was celebratory and familiar as they sipped champagne and caught up on old times.

"Tom, make a toast," Janeway commanded.

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled. He lifted his glass, considering the appropriate thing to drink to. They'd already toasted Harry and Libby several times; something new was in order. "To friendship."

"To friends lost and rediscovered," Janeway clarified, looking at Chakotay.

"To Seven," Chakotay added a little somberly. He caught the Doctor's eye, and they shared a sympathetic smile.

"To Neelix," Megan Delaney remembered fondly. A few of those around the table seconded the toast to their now-distant friend.

"To Kes," Tuvok added as T'Pel, sitting next to him, arched an eyebrow.

"To Joe Carey," B'Elanna said sadly.

"Before this gets too depressing," Janeway intervened, "let's just say to all of our Voyager family, and to Harry, but mostly to Libby –" Janeway tipped her glass in the bride's direction "–the newest member of it."

"To Harry and Libby," Reg Barclay said definitively. "May you find all the happiness you desire." Around the table, flutes of champagne clinked together before being sipped. B'Elanna even showed Miral had to make a toast with her glass of apple juice.

Following dinner, there was more conversation and dancing. They all took turns dancing with Harry and Libby, save Tuvok and T'Pel. Even Icheb tried to join in, letting Libby lead him in a slow waltz.

Across the dance floor, B'Elanna and Harry watched Icheb and Libby moving in time to the music. "She's really something, Harry," B'Elanna said kindly. She watched Harry's smile grow, certain she had never seen him happier, and rubbed his back affectionately as they danced.

"I can't believe I just married a woman who can teach a Borg how to dance," he said contentedly. He realized B'Elanna was no longer moving with him. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm all right," she said, a little winded. Her face tensed. "The baby's just kicking a lot all of a sudden. I guess she's excited for you. You mind if I sit down?" Harry shook his head. "If we don't get to say good-bye, Harry, well…" B'Elanna kissed his cheek quickly. "Congratulations."

The party ended late into the night, with guests falling into two groups. There were those who were eager to leave, either because they were tired or had to be up in the morning or because they were eager to get away from the crowd. Harry and Libby fell into this group, nearly sprinting away as soon as they had spent enough time with their guests as they needed to in order to be polite.

"Hey, isn't that Harry leaving?" Tom observed, pointing.

From across the table, Tuvok turned to look. "Indeed. Mr. Kim's departure was unceremonious." He paused. "And highly expected."

Janeway and Chakotay were the next couple in the first group, those eager to leave, and their reasons for wanting to depart were not too different from Harry's. Janeway tenderly bid her former crew farewell, asking them each to keep in touch as much as possible, and then the two moved off into the night, hand in hand, fully prepared for any rumors that might circulate about their mutual departure.

In the second category of guests were those who were reluctant to leave. They were enjoying the party, happy to see old friends and acquaintances, and not ready to let the evening end. Tom and B'Elanna were among this group, but the practicalities of their situation interfered with their desire. Miral had fallen asleep in the Doctor's arms, and B'Elanna herself was feeling tired. She was also still clutching her belly and complaining about the kicking.

They retreated to the Paris family home, where they spent the night and enjoyed breakfast with their extended family before they returned to the shuttle. Somewhere past the Sol system, en route to their rendezvous point with the Enterprise, Tom realized B'Elanna was still making faces.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked tentatively. It was probably the seventeenth time he'd asked the question, and he knew B'Elanna was getting annoyed at being treated like an invalid.

"All stop," she grumbled.

Tom grinned. "Funny. Don't tell me you're not eager to get back to your warp core."

"Tom, all stop!" she said more forcefully.

Tom heard the urgency in her voice and turned to look at her. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks, which were covered in a sheen of perspiration. "Hey, you're serious."

B'Elanna arched suddenly in her chair with a loud cry. One hand grabbed her belly, and one grabbed her lower back. "I'm in labor," she announced before crying out again.

Tom's field medic training kicked in before he had a chance to be surprised. He quickly calculated the time it would take for them to reach the Enterprise. It could possibly be done. Klingon labor could take a long time.

"How long have you been in labor?" he asked. "We might be able to get back to the –"

Another cry from B'Elanna interrupted him. "Since yesterday, I think," she confessed. "I think it started when I was dancing with Harry."

Tom spun in his chair to look at her. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded with frustration.

"Do you really want to yell at me right now?" she argued back, her face taut with pain. "Get the damn medkit!"

Tom turned back to the console in front of him, trying to calculate how quickly they could get within transporter range of Jupiter Station, Mars Colony, or, better, Earth. "Medkit, right," he reminded himself. He quickly ran to find one and pulled out a tricorder. "Didn't the Doctor notice anything yesterday?" he asked with annoyance.

"I told him I'd phaser the mobile emitter if he said anything."

"I can't sit in the cockpit anymore," B'Elanna declared, waving off his tricorder scan. "Help me get to one of the berths."

Tom frowned, returning to his calculations, and decided that the Enterprise was a better bet. He quickly laid in the course and sent a message ahead, warning the ship that they were en route with a medical emergency. Then he helped B'Elanna make her way to the rear of the shuttle and settle into one of the small beds there.

Miral watched all of this with fascination, unsure of what was happening. Tom noticed her looming at her mother's side, and, as B'Elanna cried out from another contraction, realized she would be quite frightened if she remained nearby. "Hey, munchkin…" he said, leading Miral to the cockpit.

When he returned to B'Elanna a few minutes later, she was sitting up slightly, knees bent and feet apart. "I'm no expert on childbirth," she said, somehow still able to joke around, "but I don't think we have time to get anywhere." She reached for his hand and looked into his eyes. "Well, you missed the birth of your first child –"

"And it looks like now I'm doing the second one single-handedly," he finished. He squeezed her hand and then scanned her with the tricorder.

"You're not exactly alone," she reminded him through clenched teeth.

"We should probably get you undressed so you can get ready to push." She nodded, and he pulled her dress and shoes off. "You know, the last time I undressed you in a shuttle –"

"Shut up, Tom."

He draped a sheet over her so she would be warmer and rubbed her knee supportively. After a moment, she shot forward, screaming. "I want a hypospray!" she demanded, pulling on his uniform.

"I don't have one to give you," he said apologetically. He scanned her again.

She emitted a long, loud roar as she jerked forward at the waist again. "Use the transporter! Get it out of me!"

Tom shook his head, closing the tricorder. "I can't do that. It's too risky. You have to push. And start thinking of names."

* * *

B'Elanna and Miral were lying side by side in one of the bunks, and the new baby was safely in B'Elanna's arms between them. Tom first stroked Miral's forehead with the back of his hand, then pressed his lips to B'Elanna's warmly, and finally placed the most delicate kiss he could on the new baby's tiny cheek.

A thought crossed his mind as he looked at the three of them. It was an embarrassing thought, he knew, one that would have made Tom Paris from ten years ago cringe, disbelieving it even as a possibility. But this Tom Paris didn't care. He was glad it was true.

He made his way to front of the shuttle and tapped out a message for Harry to get when he returned from his honeymoon: "Proton complete." He smiled as he sent it and wondered how long it would take for the news to spread.

The End.


End file.
